


all the codes and hearts

by addgrain



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Polyamory Negotiations, Slow Burn, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 14:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addgrain/pseuds/addgrain
Summary: Freddie’s not a jealous person. He never has been, but he’s always been a little bit afraid that how he feels about Auston would turn him into one. And yet, when he thinks about the way Mo looks at Auston, the way Mo sometimes looks at him, too— he only feels joy. He feels excitement and hope and not a single shred of doubt at how they would fit together.So what’s the fucking problem, then?





	all the codes and hearts

**Author's Note:**

> title is from a lemony snicket quote from the beatrice letters. it is a beautiful quote, and you can read it [here](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/886764-i-will-love-you-if-i-never-see-you-again).
> 
> this is, like, theoretically set in the winter of the 2018-19 season, but I took many liberties with the schedule
> 
> also, some mild warnings at the end with spoilers

Despite years of morning skates, neither of them has managed to become a morning person, so it’s usually a toss-up whether he or Auston will eventually roll out of bed first.

Today, Freddie wakes up before their alarm sweating like mad, courtesy of Auston glued to his side. Even though Auston had passed out first on his side last night before Freddie carefully got into bed trying not to wake him, he once again has managed to find his way into Freddie’s arms through the night.

Freddie smiles, and shifts so he can rake his fingers through the curls at the back of Auston’s head and tug a little. Auston moves, waking slowly, pressing his face harder against Freddie’s chest without opening his eyes.

“No,” he mumbles, and the hand across Freddie’s waist pulls him closer, as if there could be any less space between them right now.

“You’re making me sweat,” Freddie laughs, and tugs a little harder. He gets a weak shove at his shoulder for his troubles.

“Don’t care,” Auston says again, muffled against Freddie’s skin. “Fuck off and go make breakfast.” Auston’s voice is still hoarse from disuse, and it gives Freddie an idea.

Freddie rolls them over until he’s bracketing Auston, and it’s only then that Auston blinks up at him in surprise, suddenly awake.

“What the fuck,” Auston complains, even as he wraps his ankle around Freddie’s calf. “I _said_ —”

Freddie cuts him off with a kiss, slow and deep until Auston relaxes again.

“Hey,” Freddie murmurs, running a thumb across Auston’s plush bottom lip. “Morning.”

The soft smile he gets in return still makes his heart clench, even after months. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing Auston like this, so beautiful and sweet, all for him. He loves him so much it hurts, sometimes.

“You’re gross.” Auston laughs, pulling Freddie down with a hand at the back of his neck to kiss him again.

They make out for a bit, until their alarm actually goes off, and Auston pulls away to slap at his phone and shut it off.

“Breakfast,” Auston demands again when he turns back over.

Freddie rolls his eyes. “We can eat at the rink,” he says.

“You could also just make food here while I sleep some more,” Auston supplies.

Freddie bites at his throat in retaliation, liking the way Auston shivers underneath him, before he reaches up to pull Freddie away from him by his hair.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Auston warns, but his voice is shaky.

This is what Freddie was after all along anyway, and he lowers his body down until they’re pressed against each other, and the breath rushes out of Auston in a whoosh.

He smirks at the sight of Auston’s wide eyes. “If we eat at the rink,” he says with purpose, voice low, “We’ll have time to finish it now.”

Auston visibly swallows.

“ _Oh_ ,” he says, eyes dark.

And maybe they’re a little too old to be rubbing off on each other this early in the morning before practice, but seeing Auston’s face go slack, hearing the way his voice goes high and breathy before he comes, saying after _, love you, Fred, fuck_ —

Yeah, he’ll take what he can get.

Auston complains about the eggs at the rink while they stand in line to get food but eats a whole plate of them anyway. Freddie sits at a table across the room with Mo and rolls his eyes at Auston every time their eyes meet, Auston making faces back at him.

Mo’s talking about some show he’s watching that Fred’s honestly been meaning to start for months but Auston’s too scared to, when Auston abandons his plate and Mitch and comes over to drape himself all over Mo.

“Get off,” Mo says, but he’s laughing as Auston leans harder against his back.

“Let’s get lunch today,” Auston says. “I miss you,” he pouts exaggeratedly.

Mo finally manages to untangle himself from Auston’s arms.

“You spend so much time with Fred these days none of us get to hang out anymore,” Mo says. “But sure, anything for you, Matts.”

Fred meets Auston’s eyes over Mo’s head, raising an eyebrow.

They still haven’t told anyone about them, and haven’t really talked about doing it any time soon. Things are great between them, and at this point in the season telling people, telling the team, would certainly only cause problems.

Luckily the guys are oblivious enough that they haven’t noticed anything different, despite the fact that they’ve been somewhat of a thing since _February_. Freddie’s living at Auston’s place now, and the best anyone can come up with is that they’re just bros hanging out and playing video games. It would be unbelievable if it wasn’t so convenient.

Either way, Freddie is quick to deflect when it seems Auston is struggling with his words.

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m the only one that can put up with his shit,” Fred says. Auston recovers enough to take a halfhearted swing at Freddie’s arm.

“Aw, you know I’d put up with you any day,” Mo teases. It’s playful, as he almost always is with Auston, but there’s a hint of seriousness in his voice, something Freddie can’t really read. Auston goes bright red anyway, and Fred has to hold back a laugh.

“I hate you guys,” Auston mutters, turning away.

Mo laughs again. “I’ll let you pick the place, how’s that?”

Immediately, Auston brightens up, spinning back around. “Kidding, Mo. You _know_ I like you the most.”

“Alright, you big baby.” Freddie shakes his head, fond. He stands up and grabs his plate. “I have to go stretch, see you guys out there.”

Morning skate is light, and Freddie feels great after. They worked mostly on powerplay, so Fred got to stop Auston’s shots and give him shit about it, which is always fun. He even stays late to get a massage, and by the time he gets back to Auston’s after grabbing lunch with Enzo, Auston’s already in their room sprawled on his stomach for pregame nap.

“Aus,” Freddie whispers, in case Auston’s asleep already. But Auston turns his head, catching Freddie’s eye and breaking out into a sleepy grin.

“You’re back, finally. C’mere,” Auston says, lifting an arm lazily. “I’m cold.”

Freddie strips quickly, tossing his clothes towards the hamper before climbing under the covers and slotting in behind Auston, pressing up against his back.

“How was lunch?” Freddie asks, wrapping an arm around Auston’s middle. Auston’s hand comes up to cover his, and he squeezes.

“Fine.” Auston is quiet and feels a little tense. “Mo’s so great, I love him.”

“Good,” Freddie says, pressing a kiss to the back of Auston’s neck, feeling him relax. “Now go to sleep.”

They’ve got their pregame routine down perfectly, by now.

“Look good, feel good, play good,” Auston’s saying as he combs product through his hair in the mirror. Freddie puts a hand on his hip as he slides behind him, and Auston steps to the side without missing a beat when Freddie reaches for a hairdryer.

“You’re going to play great today, then,” Freddie says, and Auston rolls his eyes at him.

“Cheesy,” he says.

“You love it,” Freddie shoots back, turning the hairdryer on.

Auston gives him a kiss in answer as he passes.

His hair is looking nearly perfect when he hears a frustrated noise from the bedroom.

“Babe,” Auston calls. “Where’s my tie?”

Fred doesn’t even move from the sink, smoothing down the last few strands. He knows exactly which tie Auston’s talking about, black with the embroidered logo, that he wears as often as he can get away with.

“Probably behind the dresser,” Fred says, turning the dryer off. “You always throw it when you take it off, even though I tell you to roll it up.” It doesn’t even come out sarcastically— they’ve had this exact conversation so many times it’s like clockwork.

“No,” Auston says, and pops into the bathroom. “Can’t find it.” He wraps his arms around Freddie’s waist and looks up at him. Freddie’s so easy for him, it’s ridiculous.

“I’ll get it,” Fred says, flicking Auston’s forehead gently, and goes to reach between the dresser and the bed, fishing out the tie with his fingers.

“You’re the best,” Auston says from behind him when Freddie stands up.

“I know,” Freddie says.

Freddie spins Auston around by the shoulders, presses up against his back and loops the tie around. Once he pushes the knot up, he smooths his hand down Auston’s front and leaves it low on Auston’s stomach. Then he rests his chin on Auston’s shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.

“Ready?” he asks, and Auston just smiles at him.

“Yeah. Love you,” Auston says, easy as anything.

Lunch must have been a lot more than “fine” today, because both Mo and Auston have four-point nights as they rout the Panthers 6-1.

Auston’s pretty much bouncing off the walls in the dressing room after, which is completely warranted given the game he played tonight.

“Mo was great tonight,” Auston says excitedly as he buckles up his seatbelt in the car. “That pass to me, oh my god.”

“Yeah,” Freddie laughs. “You too, I guess, even though you didn’t manage a hat trick.”

“Hey,” Auston whines. “I had four points, too.”

“Mhm,” Freddie hums noncommittally as he glances over his shoulder to back the car out.

“Let me out then,” Auston says, making like he’s going to take his seatbelt off. “You can take Mo home if you want. Not like I was going to suck your dick for all your saves tonight anyway.”

Freddie reaches out, putting his hand over Auston’s on his thigh. Auston’s hand isn’t small by any means, but Freddie likes the way his hand almost covers Auston’s completely. He doesn’t do anything more, just rests it there, with purpose.

Auston glances down at their hands, then up at Freddie’s face.

“Eyes on the road, Andersen,” he says, but there’s a promise in his voice.

Freddie smiles. “Besides,” he teases, pulling out of the garage one handed. “ _You’d_ be the one taking Mo home anyway, the way you’ve gushed about him tonight.”

Instead of brushing it off like he normally would, Auston’s thigh tenses under Freddie’s palm. When Freddie glances over, Auston is staring resolutely out the window, jaw clenched. It’s too dark to see, but under the brief glow of a streetlight Auston looks like he’s going red.

“I was kidding, Matts,” Freddie says in confusion, pulling his hand back.

“I know,” Auston snaps. “I was, too.”

“Okay,” Freddie says slowly, still not understanding the situation.

They drive the rest of the way in silence, Auston stiff in the passenger seat. Freddie’s thankful for the radio, blasting shitty pop music to provide minimal relief as they make their way home.

Auston pretty much storms inside the house when they get back, cursing when he can’t get his boots off fast enough.

“Auston,” Freddie says, coming next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Auston shrugs it off immediately, stubbornly kicking at his shoes until they finally come off, landing awry in the doorway, then stomping into the kitchen.

Freddie lets him bang around with no end goal in sight for a few minutes.

“What is _wrong_ with you,” Freddie finally asks, ticked off as Auston makes as much noise as he possibly can, slamming cabinets and setting the glass down way too hard on the counter.

“What’s wrong with _you_ ,” Auston snipes back, turning around to face him, glass of water he poured forgotten already.

“Is this because of what I said about Mo,” Freddie says, voice flat and unimpressed. “Because I was pretty fucking clearly joking.”

“I’m not stupid,” Auston says, “I know you were joking, asshole.”

“Hey,” Freddie says, short.

“I’m not allowed to be in a bad mood now?” Auston deflects, dumping the entirely full glass of water into the sink and turning to go upstairs.

Freddie follows, anger flaring. “You’re being a dick for nothing then, acting like a fucking insecure baby, just because I made a _joke_ about you fucking someone else.”

“Well I don’t know why that would piss me the fuck off, do you?” Auston yells back, stopping in the doorway to their bedroom. His chest is heaving, face furiously red.

“You said it first about _me_!” Freddie yells. “And I’m not the one being an ass because I _know you were joking_.”

“It’s not the same,” Auston defends, turning away again.

“ _How_ ,” Freddie demands, following him into the room where he’s already pulling at the buttons of his dress shirt. None of this is making any fucking sense.

“You don’t know,” Auston says, visibly getting angrier as he fumbles with the buttons. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Then _tell me_ ,” Freddie says, and Auston’s hands drop to his sides, limp.

“I can’t,” Auston says, suddenly quiet. “It’s— it’s nothing.”

It very obviously isn’t nothing, but Freddie’s sick of fighting. Auston’s never been one to keep secrets from him before, and Freddie’s banking on the fact that Auston always tells him eventually. It always takes time. There’s no point in being angry, then, he decides, taking deep breaths. He deflates, resigned.

Auston flinches, but he doesn’t pull away when Freddie steps towards him and starts undoing his buttons for him.

“Okay,” Freddie replies.

Auston looks up, surprised. His eyes are wet, and they flutter closed when Freddie leans in to kiss him.

“Then just tell me when you’re ready, alright? That’s all I want,” Freddie says, and Auston’s face crumples.

“Oh Jesus, Auston,” Fred says, cupping the back of his head when Auston falls forward into his arms, burying his face in his chest. “It’s okay, I mean it.”

Auston doesn’t say anything, but the front of Freddie’s shirt feels damp, and he clings hard to Freddie’s arms and sniffles.

“Do you want me to sleep in the guest room tonight?” Fred asks, rubbing a hand through Auston’s hair, and Auston shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says, muffled in the fabric, still holding on. “Please stay.”

“Of course,” Freddie says. “Always.”

The two of them sleep through optional practice the next day, so they pretty much have the whole day off. Freddie does wake up once fairly early, light still gray through the blinds, Auston dead asleep on his stomach.

Sleep is usually one of the few times Auston looks relaxed, younger than he is, like he isn’t carrying the weight of a city on his shoulders. But Auston looks worried now, stressed. He’s frowning, his eyelids fluttering like he’s dreaming something terrible, hands twitching against the pillow.

On instinct, Freddie reaches out and smooths the crease on his forehead, down between his eyes until Auston sighs. Freddie stills, afraid he’s woken him, but Auston just rolls over instead, away from Freddie.

Freddie exhales, pulling his hand back and going back to sleep. He just can’t shake the feeling something is really wrong.

When he wakes again, it’s bright. Auston is awake this time, propped up against the pillows and scrolling on his phone. Freddie rolls over, pressing his face against Auston’s thigh.

“Morning,” Auston says, locking his phone. A hand comes to rest on the crown of Freddie’s head, twisting the strands gently.

“Mmm,” Freddie hums, face still mashed against Auston’s leg, arching into Auston’s hand.

“So,” Auston says, all dramatic, but doesn’t continue until Freddie looks up at him. “I made brunch reservations, if you want. They’re for 11:30, so we have time to get ready. If you don’t want to come it’s fine, I can cancel them or get Mitch to come or…”

Auston trails off, hand stilling in Freddie’s hair. He’s looking at the door when he says, “I understand if you don’t want to come, after last night.” He shrugs jerkily, like it’s fine. It’s obviously not, but Auston seems like he wants to drop it.

“Still not gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Freddie presses.

Auston bites his lip. “Is that a condition to you coming?”

Freddie curls a hand around Auston’s upper thigh. “I’m coming,” he says. “And I meant what I said last night. When you’re ready, okay?”

“I don’t deserve you,” Auston says in relief, and the vulnerable look he gives him, like he really believes it, propels Freddie to reach for Auston’s hand.

“Don’t say that,” Freddie says, pressing kisses to Auston’s knuckles, Auston looking cracked open and raw. “You deserve everything.”

“Jesus, Fred,” Auston says, overwhelmed, and meets Fred halfway for a shaky kiss.

After brunch, Freddie basically forgets about the whole thing. Auston sucks his dick on the couch like he promised last night, then dozes off right on top of Freddie while Freddie gets Netflix going on the TV. The show Mo suggested is honestly very good, something about a family and a haunted house. It’s even better when Auston wakes up, sees some ghosts on the screen, and freaks out so hard he falls off the couch.

He pushes the incident to the back of his mind, because things are fine. Auston is fine, so Freddie’s fine, too.

A couple days later, the day before Christmas Eve, Freddie wakes up to multiple texts from Mo.

_I need your help can you come over?_

_It’s important_

_Like if you’re not busy_

Freddie squints at the messages. They’ve got a few days off for the holidays, but he can’t think of an excuse to not go without sounding like either a shitty friend or revealing that his actual plan was staying in, staying warm, and banging his boyfriend for the next four days straight. He’s still contemplating how to politely turn Mo down when Auston comes out of the shower, towel around his waist.

“Hey,” Auston says, dropping his towel on the floor. Freddie takes the opportunity to openly ogle his ass and think very dirty things, which does nothing to help convince him he should go see Mo instead of calling Auston back to bed and not letting him out today.

“Did you get Mo’s texts?” Auston asks. He pulls on a pair of briefs, which snaps Freddie out of it.

“How’d you know about that?” Freddie eyes him, suspicious.

Auston shrugs, but he won’t meet his eye.

“If he needs help you should go,” Auston says, coming over to flop onto the bed and on top of Freddie.

“Come on,” Auston wheedles, when Freddie does nothing but stare him down, eyes narrowed. “It’s the holiday season, be nice.”

So of course, _that’s_ the reason Freddie ends up replying, _yeah, be over soon_.

He doesn’t think he’s imagining the look of glee on Auston’s face when he sends him off with a quick kiss.

It’s almost noon when he gets there, but Mo is still somehow running late. When he opens the door for Freddie, his hair is still wet from a last-minute shower.

“Fred,” Mo says, out of breath. “Thanks for coming. Do you want something to drink? You look cold. Are you cold?”

He’s babbling which is pretty out of character, and Freddie’s not particularly thirsty or cold, but he takes mercy on him.

“Coffee would be great, Mo, thanks.”

He watches Mo putter around the kitchen for a few minutes, getting the coffee machine going, and takes a seat at the counter.

“Everything alright, Fours?” Freddie asks. “Your texts made it seem kind of urgent.”

Mo stops up, a mug in each hand. “Oh, uh,” he says, embarrassed. “Yeah, I just needed help with last minute Christmas shopping, and I figured you were the guy to call, so.”

As much as Freddie wants to be annoyed that he basically got talked into giving up most of his day for Christmas shopping, Mo does look kind of harried. Besides, Freddie also does have great taste, so this is pretty flattering. It’s probably for someone important, anyway.

“Sure,” Freddie says. “For who?”

Mo sets two cups of coffee down on the table. He wrings his hands for a second. “Well, my parents,” he says. Then he pauses. “And I wanted to get something for Auston.”

If Freddie was less practiced, he definitely would’ve choked on his coffee. As it is, he forces himself to swallow the sip he took, throat burning. Definitely for someone important, then.

“Oh?” He asks, trying for casual but missing by a mile.

“Yeah.” Mo doesn’t seem to notice, though, and laughs to himself quietly. “I just think, I don’t know, this year’s been hard on him with injuries and media and stuff, and he’s been so great during it all anyway, you know?”

Yeah, Freddie knows, because they’ve only been together for most of the year and fucking for even more of it.

“It’s dumb,” Mo continues. “But I figured just something small, maybe. And maybe you could help. It could be from both of us?” His voice tilts up at the end of the sentence, hopeful.

Honestly, it’s sweet, and Mo’s face lights up when Freddie says as much. Freddie thinks, not for the first time, that Mo would make a great captain one day. He doesn’t mention that he got Auston’s gift a long time ago. Instead, he suggests they go grab a bite to eat first.

It actually is pretty cold outside, so Mo orders hot chocolates for them both when they get to the restaurant, this place Mo really likes. Freddie doesn’t like to cheat too much, but Mo’s looking at him so earnestly it’s hard to turn them down.

Mo was right, though, when he told Auston that none of them get to hang out together anymore. Fred’s missed this, shooting the shit with Mo like they used to. Mo is funny, making Freddie laugh, and then making himself laugh too. He looks good, too. Happy, handsome, confident, and it makes Freddie wonder when he matured so much so fast.

They should definitely do this more, Freddie thinks, and gets the check this time.

“Next time,” Freddie says, putting his card down, and looking Mo in the eye. “You can get it next time.”

He doesn’t miss the way Mo smiles at that, genuine.

Things are significantly less simple when they start shopping, because Mo literally frets over every single color of bag that he could possibly get his mom.

“I just don’t know, Fred,” Mo’s saying, holding up two nearly identical purses. “They both look so nice.”

“That’s because they’re like the same color, Mo,” Fred assures. “Close your eyes and pick one.”

It’s close to five by the time they actually get around to looking for a gift for Auston, but Mo’s got his trunk loaded with bags already. He has gift receipts for all of them, stuffed with paper and ready for the holidays ahead. Freddie’s beginning to realize Mo’s always the doting type, beyond just being the dad of the team.

“What do you think of this?” Mo asks, holding up a truly hideous sweatshirt. “Do you think he’ll like this?”

Freddie cocks his head, trying to make sense of the mess of a pattern on it. It’s making his eyes hurt.

“Probably,” he answers honestly. “But I can’t remember if he has one like that already.”

Mo makes a face. “His taste is—”

“Strange,” Freddie finishes. He’s glad they’re on the same page about this, because if Auston ever heard this conversation he’d be very offended.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Mo says. He folds the sweatshirt back up, putting it back on the display table neatly. “Maybe a toque.”

“If you can get him to wear them properly,” Freddie says, and both of them snort.

They wander some more, until Mo stops in the scarf section. “This is hard,” he says after a beat.

“I think he’ll be happy with whatever you decide to get him,” Freddie says. “Really, Mo.”

“No, I know.” Mo says rubs a hand at the back of his neck, sheepish. “I just want it to be… thoughtful, I guess.”

“Maybe just a scarf, then,” Freddie suggests, pointing at a gray patterned Gucci one. “He’s always bitching about the cold.”

Mo reaches for it, turning it over. “This is really nice,” he says. He looks up at Freddie, flashing him a toothy grin. “Thank you. Seriously, this is perfect.”

They head towards the register, scarf in Mo’s hands. Abruptly, Mo stops in his tracks, and Freddie almost runs into him. He follows Mo’s gaze, and he’s staring at the tie display.

Mo walks forward, reaching out for a deep blue silk tie hanging at eye level. It’s beautiful, Freddie imagining the way it would feel under his fingers as he does it up for Auston before a game.

“What about this instead,” he asks Freddie, but doesn’t take his eyes off the tie.

“Oh, maybe, yeah. He’s picky about color, though,” Freddie says. “I can never really get him anything colorful without his input,” he adds absently.

Mo is very quiet next to him. When Freddie glances over, Mo’s looking at him curiously.

“You buy him a lot of stuff?” He asks, and Freddie curses himself mentally.

“Oh, not really,” Freddie lies. “I just mean for birthdays, you know.”

Mo nods slowly. “Right,” he says, but he doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

His phone buzzes in his pocket exactly then, Mo looking back down at the tie. When he fishes it out, he can’t help the grin breaking across his face at the text from Auston.

 _Come home please,_ Auston’s sent, along with a string of smiley faces.

“The scarf would be perfect, though,” Freddie says, pocketing his phone and trying to move the process along.

“I think he’d like this one, too,” Mo says softly, fingers tracing the smooth silk.

“He probably would,” Fred says. He wants to leave, but he can’t take his eyes off Mo, how earnest he looks, how much effort he’s put into all of this.

Something snaps Mo out of it, and he straightens suddenly. “You’re right,” Mo says. “I’ll just get the scarf.”

Mo pays for it all, as if he had completely forgotten about the gift being from both of them. Freddie suspects it was just a ruse anyway. But even as they go, Freddie sees the way Mo’s eyes linger on the tie for a long time.

Freddie actually has to go back to his own place to pick up a few suits and sweaters for the holiday parties they have coming up, so he doesn’t make it home until after 7.

The first thing Freddie notices when he steps inside is the smell of food. Auston must’ve brought home something, but Freddie can’t pinpoint from where exactly. It smells amazing, though, and Freddie’s stomach grumbles.

“Babe?” He calls, toeing off his shoes in the entryway and draping his stuff on the nearest couch.

“In here,” Auston yells back, voice coming from the kitchen.

Freddie heads towards him, but stops the second the dining room comes into view.

The table is set, two plates with food arranged carefully. There’s even a tablecloth, which Auston never wants to use, because he hates folding it up again. Auston’s poured two glasses of the really nice wine they got from California last summer, the one Freddie had picked out specifically. In the middle of the table, there’s a candle. Next to it, a bouquet of flowers, a card peeking out through the petals.

“Hi,” Auston says, stepping out from behind the island. He’s dressed nice, a dark maroon sweater and pants. Freddie’s gaze drops to where he’s wringing his hands, nervous.

“I made dinner,” he says. Understatement of the century.

“What—” Freddie says, shocked. “What is all this?”

“Do you like it?” Auston is wiping his palms on his thighs now, as if they’re sweating.

Freddie has no idea what he’s nervous for, but he can’t get his mouth to work, still in disbelief.

“I just thought—” Auston looks away, still fidgeting.

“It’s almost Christmas,” he says, finally. “Merry Christmas.”

When Freddie still doesn’t say anything, Auston visibly slumps.

“It’s probably too much, right?” He laughs, shaking his head at himself. “I mean. I’ve been weird lately, I know. It’s not your fault, and I didn’t want you to think— I thought this could be, like, I dunno, part of a Christmas gift.”

Auston turns, like he’s about to clear stuff off the table, and Freddie panics.

“I love you,” he blurts. Auston stops, expression hopeful. “I love this. It’s not too much. You’re perfect.”

“Oh,” Auston says. “I love you too,” and walks towards him so he can catch Freddie in a hug and kiss him hard.

“Let’s eat,” Auston finishes, and they do.

An hour later, Freddie’s warm, Auston’s ankle pressed against his under the table, slightly buzzed from the alcohol, stomach full.

The food was actually really good— Auston made steak and vegetables with some kind of garnish, and Freddie’s very impressed. Auston’s come a long way from his rookie year when he lived off his dad’s cooking when he was here, and takeout when he wasn’t. He’s picked up a few things from Freddie, but he’s also put in a lot of work over the offseason and learned a few tricks here and there in the kitchen. It’s one of the many things he’s matured in over the years, and Freddie’s proud to have been there through it all.

“How did you do all this?” Freddie asks, finishing off his wine. “This is— Auston. This is amazing.”

Auston blushes, picking at his sweater. “It was nothing,” he shrugs. “I just asked Mo for a favor to distract you for the day. And then I found a few recipes online and went to the store, and. Yeah,” Auston finishes lamely, and takes a huge gulp of his wine so he doesn’t have to talk anymore.

That makes a lot of sense now, because Auston had very strongly pushed him out of the house this morning to go “help” Mo.

“I couldn’t have asked for anything more,” Freddie says, earnest.

Auston goes even redder. “Oh,” he says, and finishes his wine too. “Well. There is more.”

Auston leads him by the hand upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, hurried. The bedroom door is firmly shut when they get to it, and Auston sort of barricades it with his body and turns to face Freddie.

“Don’t laugh, okay?” he asks. “If you don’t like it, just tell me.”

“I’m going to like it,” Freddie says, because he likes pretty much anything Auston does.

Auston nods once, firm, but he’s still visibly nervous.

They go inside, and the bed is made. There are more candles on the bedside table, casting the room in a warm glow.

Auston doesn’t even stop in the bedroom long enough for Freddie to stare, pulling Freddie along and pushing the bathroom door open.

There are even more candles along the rim of the tub (Freddie has to wonder how many candles Auston bought), and there’s a diffuser going in the corner of the room. The air is heavy and warm, the sweet scent from the essential oils already wringing out stress from Freddie’s muscles. The hot tub is going, and Auston has two robes set out on the side.

“Okay,” Auston says, dropping Freddie’s hand and turning to face him. “This is it.”

Auston looks up at him, studying his expression. Freddie doesn’t know what he looks like right now— probably stunned and slack jawed and dumb.

“I thought maybe you would’ve really hated rose petals, so I didn’t end up getting them.” Auston slides a socked foot along the tile, fumbling with the hem of his sweater.

That makes Freddie laugh, and once he starts, he can’t stop. He tries to imagine Auston standing in the aisle of the store, wavering over buying rose petals. Then he tries to picture Auston actually scattering rose petals for him, and as romantic as it is, it’s even more ridiculous. It’s endearing though— all of this is. Auston’s put a lot of effort into this, but Freddie’s laughing because he can’t believe that Auston and all of the perfect, thoughtful, gorgeous human in front of him is somehow his. He can’t believe he’s lucky enough to be so loved.

“You hate it, don’t you,” Auston says, because Freddie is still kind of losing it.

Freddie’s still laughing a little bit when he wraps Auston up in a hug, lifting him off the ground. Auston lets out a little _oof_ in surprise.

“How could I hate this,” Freddie says, squeezing Auston tight. “I just— holy shit, I love you so much,” he says.

“Oh. Good,” Auston says, and the relief is so strong that he doesn’t even say _I love you_ back.

It’s okay, though, Freddie thinks, as Auston undresses him slowly and carefully. He knows. He knows exactly how Auston feels.

Getting undressed inevitably leads to making out, because they’re them and they’re probably never going to be able to keep their hands off each other like this. Freddie was actually very looking forward to getting in that hot tub immediately, but apparently his body has other ideas.

Freddie can’t even catch his breath with how hard and urgent Auston is kissing him, both of them naked and backed against the edge of the tub.

“I feel like this is a fire hazard,” Freddie mumbles into a kiss, and Auston giggles against this mouth.

Auston eventually sits down to take a breather, hands on Freddie’s hips and forehead pressed to his stomach.

“I really didn’t think this through,” Auston says, breath warm against Freddie’s skin. He looks up at Freddie, eyes wide.

“If we fuck now, then we’ll get the hot tub water dirty,” Auston explains. “And if we fuck after, we’ll have to get clean again.”

Freddie laughs, and gently pushes Auston’s hands off of him to climb into the tub. The hot water feels so good, and he groans as he sinks in slowly. He holds out a hand to Auston.

“We’ll just shower after. Come on, get in.”

Auston looks conflicted but takes his hand, getting into the water, and settles in back to Freddie’s front. Freddie spreads his knees wide to accommodate him, and Auston leans his head back against his shoulder.

“This is nice,” Auston sighs, boneless in his arms.

Freddie hums, sliding a hand up his chest, distracted by the line of his throat, exposed.

When he presses his mouth to the hollow of it, Auston shudders beneath his hands, but turns his head away.

“We could’ve just fucked now, but you got in the tub. And I’m not going to sit in jizz water,” he complains. “So, behave.”

Freddie snorts at that, only a little disappointed, but concedes.

“Okay,” Auston says, very slow, when Freddie’s toweling him off. “There’s actually one more thing.”

So that makes three separate things Auston’s done for him tonight. Freddie’s feeling a little bit shitty now, because he was going to wait until Christmas day to give Auston his gift. But at this rate, Auston is going to destroy him for title of best gift giver in the relationship, so he thinks, _fuck it, they’re both giving Christmas gifts today._

“Wait,” Freddie interrupts. “I have something for you, too.”

Instead of happiness or even surprise, Auston looks irritated.

“This was supposed to be _my_ night for _you_ ,” he whines.

Freddie rolls his eyes. “It’s fine,” he says. “Be right back.” He leaves him with a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

When Freddie bought the bracelet, he was kind of nervous about hiding it. Auston is notoriously shitty at organizing their dresser, so he’s constantly digging around for things. That pretty much crossed off the easiest hiding place, so instead Freddie had hidden it in the very back corner of the top shelf in their closet. Then he prayed every day that Auston would be lazy enough to ask Freddie to grab shit off the shelf for him, and therefore never find it.

As stupid as that plan was, it worked, miraculously. The box is still there, the gold Cartier bracelet intact and untouched since November.

When Freddie returns, Auston’s still naked, leaning against the tub. At least now he looks mildly interested, trying to lean around Freddie to catch a glimpse of the box he’s hiding behind his back.

Freddie doesn’t beat around the bush, holding out the box to Auston.

Auston takes it from him excitedly, eyes widening when he opens it and sees what’s inside.

“Holy shit, Fred,” Auston looks up, shaking his head.

“This is like, thousands of dollars,” he says. “I can’t—”

“Don’t worry about the cost,” Freddie shrugs. “I saw it last month and I thought of you. I know you like bracelets, so.”

Auston turns it around in his hands, touch soft and hesitant like he can’t believe it’s real.

“Aw, fuck,” Auston says, and a huge smile floods his face. “This is the _love bracelet_ , you fuckin’ sap.”

Freddie feels heat rising to his cheeks. “Well unfortunately I do love you, so I guess it fits.”

Auston laughs, a bright, loud thing, and comes over to press the bracelet into Freddie’s palm.

“Put it on for me?” he asks, voice soft and so sweet.

The gold band is still cool to the touch against Freddie’s hand, but when he wraps his fingers around Auston’s wrist, he feels a bit damp and warm, pulse thrumming under the thin skin. He can feel the muscles jump as he slides it on steadily.

The bracelet stands out against Auston’s tan skin, reflecting the flicker of the candles still lit around them. He rubs his thumb over Auston’s wrist, and feels warmth blooming in the space near his heart.

Auston had taken all his other bracelets off earlier to get in the tub, his favorite leather LV one Freddie had watched him buy discarded along with the others in a pile by the sink. Now, arm bare, the only thing Auston’s wearing is this bracelet. Freddie’s bracelet.

Something inside Freddie feels like it was just lit aflame, and suddenly he has to kiss Auston breathless.

“Wait, wait,” Auston pants, gripping at Freddie’s forearms for a lifeline. “I still have to show you the last thing.”

“It can wait,” Freddie growls, trying to pull Auston closer.

“It really can’t,” Auston says, firm, and thumps Freddie gently with an open palm on his forehead. “Come to bed.”

 _That_ gets Freddie’s interest, and he perks up immediately. Auston laughs at him, but he reaches back with a hand that Freddie takes.

“Okay. You, over there,” Auston demands, pointing to the bed.

“Yes sir,” Freddie says, and Auston makes a face at him.

Freddie sits on the edge of the bed and watches as Auston makes his way to the closet, reaching up to the top shelf. Freddie has a moment of panic when he thinks Auston put his thing in the exact same place as Freddie, but it’s avoided when Auston turns towards the opposite corner.

He starts to laugh in relief, but also because only the two of them would both be dumb and hopeful enough to hide their gifts in pretty much the same terrible location.

Auston turns, holding something behind his back. He sees Freddie laughing and frowns.

“Why do you keep laughing when I try to do things for you,” Auston pouts.

“I can’t even— I literally cannot even explain,” Freddie says, choked.

Once he starts to compose himself, Auston still watching, unimpressed, he says, “I’m sorry, baby. Please show me.”

Auston keeps staring. “You are the worst,” he says in disbelief. “You don’t even deserve how awesome this gift is, but here.”

Freddie looks down. In Auston’s hands are a pair of padded handcuffs.

And like, holy shit. It’s not like he’s never thought about the prospect of getting a pair of those on Auston, or even letting Auston put them on him, but it’s one thing to imagine it and another thing to have it put on a fucking platter for him. Freddie’s mouth goes dry.

“Yeah,” Auston says, smug, watching Freddie struggle to keep it together. “I knew you’d like this one.”

“Can I—” Freddie asks, reaching out for the handcuffs. When Auston hands them over, Freddie just sits there staring at them, brain too fried to move.

“Hey,” Auston says, stepping into the spread of his thighs. He offers his wrists up. “If you want, I was thinking. Maybe you could put them on me tonight.”

“Yes,” Freddie says, too fast and too eager. It would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so fucking hot. Auston doesn’t seem to notice or care though, and smiles ear to ear.

“You should loop it through the headboard,” Auston suggests, climbing into Freddie’s lap and straddling him. His voice drops, and he leans in to whisper into Freddie’s ear. “You should cuff me there, and then you should fuck me. As fast or as slow as you want. And then, if you can hold off that long, you should fuck my mouth.”

“Oh my god,” Freddie says, words like cotton in his mouth. “You—”

He can’t even finish the sentence before he has to kiss Auston. It’s so clear Auston’s thought about this before and has a very detailed fantasy, and Freddie has so many questions but none of them are more urgent than his need to get all over Auston right now.

“Okay. On your back,” Freddie says, when they’re both out of breath. “Please,” he adds, because that seemed a little rude.

“Yes sir,” Auston mocks, but slides off his lap and lays back onto the pillows.

Freddie pinches his calf. “Brat,” he says, crawling over on top of Auston.

“You like it,” Auston says, sure. He puts his arms above his head without being asked, and raises an eyebrow at Freddie like a challenge.

And yeah, Freddie can handle that.

Auston pulls a little when Freddie snaps the cuffs shut, like he’s testing it.

Freddie lets him squirm for a bit, until Auston seems satisfied at the fit, and looks up at him with a sunny smile.

“Alright, Fred,” Auston says. “Show me what you got.”

Auston’s clearly trying to goad him into taking him hard and fast. Obviously, Freddie has more self-control than that, so he sits back and runs a hand slowly down Auston’s side, watching goosebumps rise in its path. He’s going to take his time tonight, and there is nothing Auston can do about it.

Freddie’s not normally possessive, but something about Auston brings out this side of him that gets a primal satisfaction at seeing Auston cuffed to the bed, nothing but Freddie’s bracelet on his wrist. Or maybe it’s _everything_ about Auston that makes him crazy like this, from the way Auston looks, strong and beautiful and laid bare at Freddie’s mercy, to the way he looks up at him with huge eyes, because Auston always trusts him.

“You look so good,” Freddie says. He can’t stop touching Auston, from the alluring curve of his neck to the planes of his muscled chest, his stomach, jumping at Freddie’s touch, ticklish. Then down to his thigh, thick and strong, trembling when Freddie thumbs the sensitive insides of them, and jerking when he leans down to bite.

“Be patient,” Freddie murmurs, right at the crease of his hip, just a few inches right of where Auston really wants him.

Auston lifts a knee and knocks Freddie gently in the side of the head for that.

“Asshole,” Auston breathes, but it doesn’t come out evenly at all.

“Watch it,” Freddie warns, rubbing at his temple where Auston had kneed him.

Auston grins at him, all teeth. “Make me,” he challenges, eyes bright, and Freddie is helpless to comply.

Eventually, when Auston’s eyes are closed, so sensitive from Freddie doing nothing but touching him and teasing him, Freddie stretches up to kiss him.

“Ready?” he asks, running his thumb along the corner of Auston’s mouth. Then he reaches up and presses his fingers to Auston’s wrists, running his right hand around the gold band on Auston’s left wrist and squeezing. He watches in fascination as Auston jerks, fingers scrabbling like he’s trying to get them on Freddie, the chain of the cuffs rattling against the headboard.

“Yes,” Auston bites out, strained, eyes flying open to stare Freddie down. His pupils are blown big, eyes dark.

From experience, he knows Auston likes getting fingered. He likes the stretch, and he’s not shy about loving the way he feels so full, or how sensitive his prostate is. Auston likes to feel good, and neither he nor Freddie are really ever in a mood to deny him that.

Freddie gets the lube, spreading a generous amount on his fingers and then Auston’s hole until it’s slippery and messy. Freddie likes the smooth slide, whereas Auston doesn’t really care either way as long as he gets to come, and Freddie gets suckered into cleaning him up after. Then he starts with two, pushing his fingers in slowly, letting Auston get used to the sudden stretch.

He loves this, getting to see Auston’s face as he adjusts, eyes fluttering like he can’t decide whether he wants to open his eyes and see Freddie, or just close his eyes and feel it. Freddie waits, and right when it seems like Auston’s getting a little too comfortable, he curls his fingers up.

Auston groans, legs sliding up and bending, restless. His prostate always lights him up inside, and he gets noisy when Freddie presses against it relentlessly. Freddie pushes up on his knees for leverage, one hand on Auston’s hip, then fucks him with his fingers until Auston yells himself hoarse, screwing down on them best he can with the little slack he has with the cuffs.

“I don’t want to come yet,” Auston says, voice dangerously close to begging. He’s still tugging on the cuffs, and Freddie has to slide a hand up his arm to get him to stop for fear of leaving marks. “Fuck me.”

Freddie pulls his fingers out, wiping them on the inside of Auston’s thigh.

“Ew,” Auston whines. “I hate you.”

Freddie doesn’t even dignify that with a response, rolling on a condom then popping open the cap of the lube again and slicking himself up.

Auston’s staring at him when he looks up, fingers snapping, all impatient and bratty.

“You’re really taking your time, huh,” he quips, then starts nudging at Freddie with his toes.

“You are literally so annoying,” Freddie says, exasperated, but moves forward between Auston’s thighs. Auston leans back, letting his legs fall open lewdly.

“Maybe I won’t let you come tonight,” Freddie threatens, but pushes his hand up Auston’s thigh to balance himself. “Maybe I’ll just leave you here like this, get myself off and go to sleep.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Auston shoots back, not even worried in the slightest.

So Freddie waits him out, just barely touching him with a gentle hand until Auston finally looks irritated.

“What are you doing,” he complains, morose. “Move.”

“Well what do you say when you want something, Auston,” Freddie teases. Auston glares at him, though it’s not very menacing with the way his lips are bitten red and his chest is heaving with shallow breaths.

“Fuck you,” Auston says, stubborn, hands curling in frustration.

Freddie grins, sliding a hand up to splay wide on Auston’s stomach, holding him still.

“Not the plan tonight.”

“Freddie.” Auston’s voice is low and serious. “If you don’t put your dick in me in the next five seconds, I am going to murder you.”

That makes Freddie throw his head back and laugh, because the day Auston stops being demanding and pushy is the day he dies. Even cuffed to the bed like this, helpless, Auston always gets what he wants from Freddie, that much is certain.

“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘ _please_ ’, but that works, too,” Freddie says.

Auston looks like he’s actually thinking about kicking Freddie square in the face, opening his mouth again to protest, but Freddie chooses that moment to start pushing in, and Auston’s words are lost in a groan.

Freddie lets out a similar noise, deep and guttural as his hips meet Auston’s ass, rolling and slow. He pushes Auston’s leg up, bending him nearly in half, fucking forward impossibly deeper.

He pulls out, thrusting back in with a long smooth shove that makes Auston cry out very loudly, and slide up the bed with the force of it.

Freddie doesn’t particularly want the other people on their floor to know that he’s in the process of fucking Auston stupid, but he’s also a little too wrapped up in the way Auston’s twisted his hands to hold on to the headboard for leverage, and trying to get one foot on the bed to push up into Freddie’s movements, to really give a shit.

Besides, the sex is too amazing not to brag about it every once in a while, and Freddie figures this is a good a time as any. On that note, he starts to move with rhythm and purpose, but still slow enough that Auston is visibly frustrated, despite the fact that his dick is hard and leaking against his stomach.

“More,” Auston groans, but can’t get traction with his foot on the slippery sheets to do anything about it.

“No,” Freddie says, keeping up the same slow grind, deep and sure, until Auston makes a noise like he’s choking on it.

“Make me come,” Auston says, then clenches down hard on Freddie’s dick. “Make me come now and I’ll suck you off,” he pleads, desperate now. Any other time, Auston would’ve gotten his own hand on his dick, never letting it last as long as Freddie would like. But now, Freddie’s in control here, and Auston looks like he’s going to cry, soon.

“No,” Freddie repeats, then angles his hips in a way that rubs directly on Auston’s prostate, and then Auston really does let out a dry sob.

Auston’s pulling on the cuffs again, and it looks like it hurts. “Please, Fred,” he says. “Move. I’ll do anything. Just— just make me come.”

“God, Auston,” Fred says, overwhelmed, and starts to fuck him again, hard and short strokes and thighs burning with the strain of getting so deep in Auston.

Auston won’t stop talking, begging, making noise, and even when Freddie kisses him he’s still letting out these little sounds against his mouth.

“Are you close?” Auston asks shakily, letting his leg fall only to wrap it around Freddie’s back, trying to pull him closer.

“Yeah, fuck,” Freddie says, feeling his orgasm build, warm and insistent in his belly.

“Can you—” Freddie starts, cut off by the way Auston surges up off the bed to kiss him again roughly.

“Tighten up for me,” he finally manages, and Auston moans.

“Oh my god,” Auston says and does, and squeezes down, stomach muscles rippling. “Yeah, I— _god_ , Fred.”

The pressure and friction together feel insane, and in what feels like no time at all, Freddie’s coming, fucking him through it like he can get any deeper.

“That was so dirty,” Auston says in awe as Freddie comes down, breathing harshly and warm against Auston’s sweaty skin. “I can’t even _believe_.”

It takes some time for Freddie to catch his breath, arms still jelly from how hard he came.

“Hey,” Auston says, insistent, arms still bound above his head. “You fucked up the plan. I still haven’t come yet, hello?”

 _Oh right_ , Freddie thinks blearily. Auston was supposed to suck his dick, but he couldn’t even hold out long enough for that to happen. _Fuck_.

“Fuck,” he groans, out loud this time. “Alright, one second, I got you.”

It takes some maneuvering, but Freddie slides down until he can get a hand around Auston’s dick, dry. Maybe it hurts a little, but Auston’s been desperate for so long he probably doesn’t even care. It certainly doesn’t look like he does, with the way Auston exhales hard and arches into Freddie’s grip.

“Unbelievable,” Auston’s saying, but his voice is shaky, hitching as Freddie jerks him off. “I do all of this for you, and then I still have to ask you to get me off.”

“Shut up,” Freddie says, then redoubles his efforts because the fact that Auston is still coherent enough to snark at him like this means he hasn’t done his job yet.

He slides three fingers back into Auston without warning, and Auston clenches down on them in surprise. Then Freddie tightens his grip, rubbing his thumb over the head gently and Auston’s thighs spasm.

“I—” Auston manages, but nothing more. _There we go_ , Freddie thinks smugly.

Freddie ducks his head to hide his grin, then sets a brutal pace with his fingers in time with his other hand, jabbing hard at that spot inside him that makes Auston shake.

Auston’s eyes roll back, and he barely chokes out Freddie’s name before he’s squeezing Freddie’s fingers so hard it hurts, and coming hard and messy against his chest.

For many moments after, neither of them speaks, the sex rendering them both incoherent with how mind-blowingly good it was. Auston doesn’t even pull on the handcuffs, or insist on being freed, seemingly content to just melt into the sheets right where he is. Freddie high-fives himself mentally for that.

Freddie recovers first, hauling himself up off the bed with a groan. Briefly, he remembers his promise to them both that they could shower after, but neither of them are in any shape to be doing that right now, considering Freddie’s legs are so wobbly he almost falls over when he stands, and Auston’s about to fall asleep with the cuffs still on.

“Mmm?” Auston asks, blinking up at him when Freddie touches his arm gently.

“Just getting these off for you,” Freddie says, and undoes the latch with a click.

Auston’s arms fall to the bed, limp, and he groans softly.

“You feeling okay, baby?” Freddie questions, concerned. He reaches out, rubbing circles into Auston’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” Auston sighs, and sinks further into the sheets, curling up on his side. “Arms ‘re numb, though,” he complains, shaking them out gently.

Freddie smiles at him, running his hand softly across Auston’s cheek.

“Be right back,” Freddie says. Auston doesn’t even respond with words, too tired to do anything but blink at him again.

In the bathroom, Freddie runs a washcloth under the warm water, trying to snap out of the post orgasm daze. He’s still moving sluggishly, but once he splashes himself with water and gets himself clean, he feels more alert already.

He makes sure to take the same kind of care for Auston, and then checks his wrists after wiping him down. Everything looks fine save for a little bit of redness because Auston couldn’t stop pulling, but his gaze lingers again on the way the bracelet stands out against Auston’s flushed skin. It’s beautiful. Auston is so fucking beautiful.

He knows what it means that Auston gave up control to him like this, and the meaning isn’t lost on him in the slightest. It must’ve been hard, especially for someone whose entire media persona is dependent on careful control and calmness. Auston owns who he is, both publicly and privately, but it says a lot about how he feels about Freddie that he let himself be vulnerable and taken like this.

Freddie settles next to him, reaching out to hold him, heart pounding for no reason other than Auston. It’s always Auston.

“Hey,” Freddie says, too loud. Auston startles, and Freddie tears his gaze away from the flickering shadows on the walls from the still lit candles. He doesn’t even know what he was going to say, maybe just that he loves him, or _thank you_ , or—

“Shut up,” Auston says, cutting off his train of thought. It doesn’t come out harsh, just a wisp of a thing, so tired. “Go blow out all the candles,” Auston mumbles.

“Lazy ass,” Freddie chirps, but lets Auston go to sleep anyway.

“Love you,” he whispers before he goes, and presses kisses to Auston’s forehead, the corner of his eye, his mouth, then his nose. Auston wrinkles his nose, after, and Freddie’s heart feels like it’s going to burst.

Auston’s done enough for the night, Freddie figures, rolling out of bed and blowing out the candles on the dresser. More than enough.

Auston spends all of the afternoon of Christmas Eve stressing about the team Christmas party at the Kadris later that night. He worries about everything, from what they should bring to what he’s going to wear. It would be annoying, but Freddie’s mostly distracted by Fortnite as Auston thinks out loud.

“Babe, you don’t get it,” Auston’s saying, scrolling frantically on his phone. “It’s not that I don’t have a sweater, it’s that I can’t pick one to wear. Like I want to wear a nice one, but I can’t wear one that’s too nice or everyone will make fun of me, so I don’t know which one to pick. It still has to be nice though, but how nice is too nice?”

“Everyone will make fun of you no matter what you wear,” Freddie says plainly. He’s wearing his headset because Kappy and Zach are discussing strategy with him, but he has to leave one headphone off so Auston doesn’t feel ignored.

Auston kicks at him where he’s got his feet in his lap. “That’s not true,” he says, but oh, it is. It’s no secret everyone gets a kick out of teasing Auston, but they all do it out of love.

Zach is yelling in his ear about someone shooting at him from the back, so Freddie can’t even turn his head to see how Auston feels about that.

“Fine, don’t answer me,” Auston says, sullen, after Freddie ignores him in favor of screaming at Kappy for being absolute ass at this game. At least Auston finally goes blissfully quiet.

He jerks a second later, knocking his ankles against Freddie’s thigh. “We should bring champagne,” he muses. “Or is that too basic? Should we do wine? Maybe we should bring food instead.”

Freddie gets blown up on the screen, so he finally rips his headset off and turns to Auston.

“Champagne will be okay. I think you should wear your teddy bear sweater. Also, you should wear your glasses more. You look cute,” Freddie says, and reaches over so he can push Auston’s glasses up his nose where they’ve been slipping and kiss him.

Auston seems a little stunned that Freddie was actually listening to him, which Freddie takes offense to. He’s learned by now how to tune into Auston’s rambling when appropriate— it’s a skill.

“You worry too much,” Freddie adds, once Auston’s relaxed and scooted himself almost fully in Freddie’s lap. “Everything will be okay.”

They go separately to the party, Mitch swinging by to pick Auston up, then Freddie heading back to his own apartment to grab the champagne before showing up on his own later.

By the time he gets there, Uber irritatingly slow, Auston is looking very loose. Probably too loose considering he’s only been there thirty minutes.

It’s probably bad form to go straight to Auston after greeting Naz’s wife and dropping the champagne off, but Auston’s waving his hands around and Freddie can hear his conversation with Mo from across the room, so he figures checking on him won’t hurt.

Freddie announces his presence to the pair of them with a hand low on Auston’s back, sliding around him to the other side before catching Mo in a side hug.

“Freddie!” Auston beams, launching himself at Freddie for a hug as if they hadn’t seen each other half an hour ago.

“Hi, Auston,” Freddie laughs, and maybe holds him a little too long. It’s rare that they get to be super affectionate in public anyway, but Auston being tipsy is the perfect excuse.

Mo’s looking at them, fond, when they pull apart.

“You missed the picture, Fred,” Mo says, arms crossed, pretending to be stern.

Auston giggles, and leans on Mo. “We took a picture with Santa, and Enzo sat on his lap, because— because—” and he starts laughing again, pressing his face against Mo’s shoulder, muffling the sound.

Mo snakes an arm around his shoulder, holding them both up. “Because he’s tiny,” Mo finishes, and he and Freddie both start laughing too. Then Mo stumbles sideways, because Auston’s reaching for another drink from Will who’s come over, too.

“You guys are cute,” Will teases, looking flushed and drunk as well, then he waves a hand at Freddie.

Freddie waves back. “Hi William,” he says, then Will all but trips over himself to get to Kappy who is calling him over, holding the Gardiner baby in his arms.

Auston’s finished his drink already when Freddie turns around, still leaning too hard on Mo, and then Freddie actually has to reach over to steady them both, so they don’t fall over because of Auston.

And now the three of them are kind of just standing there holding each other in the middle of a crowded room, Christmas music going, lights bright and golden strung all across the ceiling. It’s snowing outside now, white and magical against the dark night sky through the big windows.

It must look funny, Freddie thinks, but both Auston and Mo look up him, faces still lit up and red with laughter and from alcohol, and Freddie just feels warm.

Mo walks with them outside when they decide to leave as it nears midnight, the two of them steadying Auston together as they make their way to the street. He’s fucking heavy when he’s drunk.

“I miss you,” Auston says, turning his face up to Mo. “This was so fun. I really miss you,” he says again, and sighs, sagging in both their arms.

“I’m right here,” Mo says, aiming for light but missing entirely. The emotion is plain on Mo’s face, some kind of longing. Normally, Freddie thinks Mo would never let it be this obvious that Auston’s words are affecting him this much, but they’re all drunk, and they’re all open books, now.

Abruptly, Mo stops up, eyes suddenly clear.

“I gotta get something for you, Auston,” he says, and meets Freddie’s eyes over Auston’s head. It’s the scarf, Freddie realizes. He brought the scarf to the Christmas party. “Don’t go yet,” Mo adds.

“For me?” Auston says, voice filled with glee. “Oh god, Mo, alright.”

Mo hurries off around the corner of the building to his own car, and Auston and Freddie stand there, still touching in so many places, alone under the streetlight.

“Hi, handsome,” Auston says, turning to him, eyes sparkling with mischief. Now they’re pressed nearly chest to chest, the snow falling gently around them. Freddie’s breath catches— this could be a scene out of a movie, but it’s real. He can’t believe it’s real.

“Hi yourself,” he says back. The silence, the snow, and the alcohol make him brave, and he pulls Auston in by his coat. Auston slides his hands into the pockets of Freddie’s jacket.

“Kiss me,” Auston says, face angled up, cheeks rosy from cold now, too.

There are snowflakes in Auston’s eyelashes, small and fragile and perfect. His eyes are saying everything his brain can’t put into words right now— _I love you, I love you, I love you_. Freddie doesn’t even care that they’re outside and anyone could see. He presses their lips together, warm and gentle. It’s brief, but it’s enough. Auston smiles, blinding, and pulls himself closer with his hands still in Freddie’s jacket.

This is one of those moments, one that Freddie is going to relive in his head over and over again.

“Guys,” Mo says as he rounds the corner, package in hand. He stops when he sees them tangled together, though, looking confused and something else. Hurt, maybe. Freddie’s a little too dizzy to read into that, right now.

“Oh,” Freddie says, and his eyes fall to where Auston’s hands are still in his pockets. “He was cold,” he tries, but he’s drunk, and he can’t lie for shit like this.

Auston doesn’t even try, just buries his face in Freddie’s chest and starts laughing again.

Thankfully, Mo doesn’t push further, just comes closer until he can nudge Auston.

“Here,” Mo says. The package is wrapped in plain butcher paper, tied together with twine, a card under the knot. It’s very hipster. Very Auston, and also very Mo, in a way. Simple, practical, and earnest.

Auston _oohs_ , clearly excited.

“Open it,” Mo prompts gently, and together they watch as Auston clumsily tears the package open, reading the card to himself.

When he’s done, Auston doesn’t smile, just folds it up and tucks it away in his pocket. He looks up at Mo, and if Freddie didn’t know better, he’d think Auston was about to cry. Whatever was in that letter must’ve been beautiful, then. Freddie’s curious, but it wasn’t for him for a reason, so he doesn’t pry.

Auston peels away the rest of the paper, crumpling it. Freddie takes it from him so he doesn’t just drop it on the ground, but Auston’s so focused on the scarf clutched in his hands that he doesn’t seem to notice.

“You got this?” Auston’s voice is a whisper, disbelieving. “For _me_?”

“Well,” Mo says, sheepish. He tucks his hands in his pockets. “Freddie helped.”

Auston turns to him, expression wide open. “You did?”

Freddie shrugs. “It’s Mo’s gift,” he deflects, because he may have picked it out, but the sentiment is all Mo, here.

“Thank you, Mo,” Auston exhales, breath curling, visible in the cold. “I love it. So much.”

Freddie doesn’t know what takes him over in that second, but he pushes Auston gently towards Mo. “Let him put it on for you.”

Auston stumbles a little bit, but Mo catches him, and they stare at each other for a very long time before Mo comes to his senses first and takes the scarf from Auston.

The way Mo puts it around Auston’s neck is so tender and kind that Freddie can’t look away. There’s something there that he can’t focus on right now, because he’s busy watching Mo’s gentle hands, his face, as he makes the final loop with the fabric.

He wants to be able to look at Auston, to see what must be etched clearly on his face. He can’t hide shit when he’s drunk. But Auston’s back is turned towards him, so he can’t. He imagines it, though, like maybe someone pulled every vulnerable thought out of Auston’s heart and painted it clearly across his face, in his eyes, on the turn of his mouth.

The snow has stopped, the night eerily quiet now, save for the hum of cars and ever-present Toronto traffic. Eventually, Freddie clears his throat, the moment shattering.

“We should call our Uber, probably,” he says, quiet. And still, none of them move.

“Alright,” Mo says, finally, when the silence becomes too much. Auston turns away, and leans his head sideways on Freddie’s shoulder. Freddie takes that as a cue to take his phone out, and opens the Uber app.

“Thank you again, Mo. Seriously.” Auston puts a hand on Mo’s elbow, and all three pairs of eyes track the movement. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Mo repeats, smiling small. Then he heads back inside, waving goodbye as he goes.

Auston turns back, still leaning on him as Freddie puts his phone away. His hands are getting cold. After a moment, Auston slips his hand back into Freddie’s pocket, linking their fingers together as they wait to go home.

While Auston brushes his teeth that night, Freddie goes to the kitchen and fills two glasses of water first, before heading upstairs.

In the bedroom, Auston has left the card from Mo under his phone. Freddie’s itching to take a peek, but decides to go check on Auston, instead. When he heads into the bathroom, Auston’s spitting into the sink. Auston looks up and sees Freddie watching him from the doorway, and he catches his eye in the mirror and smiles.

Freddie smiles back, walking in and hugging Auston from behind while he rinses.

“Did you really help Mo pick out the scarf?” Auston asks when he’s done, watching him in the mirror.

“Only a little bit,” Freddie lies. He doesn’t know why he keeps the part about the tie to himself, but Mo didn’t end up buying it, so it doesn’t matter anyway. It was beautiful though, and pressed up behind Auston like this, he can picture how handsome Auston would look in it.

“That was so sweet,” Auston sighs. Then he turns in the cradle of Freddie’s arms so he can kiss him for a long time.

Finally, Auston slumps, sobering up and getting sleepy. It still looks like there’s something on his mind, though, and Freddie tips his chin up with two fingers until they’re looking at each other again.

“What’s going on up there?” Freddie taps a finger lightly against Auston’s temple.

“I think,” Auston begins, tentative. “Mo is probably gonna find out soon, huh? About us?”

Freddie has a sudden flashback to the slip up in the store, to the risky kiss tonight. Mo hasn’t said anything, but Auston’s right.

“Maybe,” Freddie shrugs. “He won’t tell, though.”

“Not what I mean,” Auston replies, and puts his hands on Freddie’s shoulders. “I just think we should tell him before he comes to his own conclusions, right? I mean, I think he was already suspicious when I asked him to distract you for the day. Like, how many possible reasons could there have been for that?”

Freddie studies Auston very carefully. This isn’t just drunk Auston talking, and he suspects Auston has wanted to tell Mo for a while now. The two of them are close. All of them are. So maybe it’s time.

“You can tell him,” Freddie says. “When you want.”

“Oh, good.” Auston relaxes. “I think I will soon, then.”

Eventually Freddie has to let Auston go so he can brush his teeth too. When he’s done, he stands there in the bathroom for a while, staring at his own reflection. There was something surreal about tonight, so easy and free that it felt like a dream. Not just Auston, kissing him under a flurry of snowflakes on Christmas Eve, but Mo, too.

Usually, the intrusion from outsiders when they’re alone is unwelcome and awkward. But Mo didn’t feel like an outsider at all. He made the night better, Freddie realizes, just by being there.

Freddie feels lucky for a lot of things in his life, but tonight he makes sure to count his blessings.

On Christmas morning, Freddie calls his family, Auston probably doing the same in the living room. Then he makes waffles and cuts fruit, and eats breakfast late with Auston, playing footsie as they do.

Auston gives Freddie a pair of new leather boots, and Freddie gives Auston a small pack of silk dress socks. Once they’ve put their stuff away, Freddie spends the rest of the day bending Auston over every flat surface in their apartment. The kitchen island is an especially memorable one.

They fuck so many times that day they can barely stand in the shower that night, but whatever. It’s not like they have anything to do for a few more days, holiday break welcome and necessary. Not that they’re really getting much rest, Freddie figures. No one has to know about that, though.

Auston looks up at him, water running down the side of his face in rivulets.

“What do you think Mo’s doing tonight?” The question is extremely out of the blue, but Auston’s watching him like he thinks Freddie has the answer.

“I’m not sure,” Freddie says, honest. He feels guilty. He probably should’ve asked. “He’s probably with the Gardiners, or something.”

“Yeah.” Auston chews on his lip, then says what Freddie was thinking. “We could’ve invited him. You made a lot of extra food.”

“We can invite him some other time,” Freddie says, and leans into Auston’s soapy hands on his chest.

Maybe it should be weird that they’re talking about their teammate while they’re both naked and wet, but Freddie finds himself imagining it. Christmas dinner with the three of them would have been fun, but it’s too late to dwell on it now. Freddie meant what he said. Some other time.

Freddie lounges on the couch like a bump on a log all of Boxing Day, all their Canadian teammates busy during the morning. Auston doesn’t have much planned either, but he seems restless, walking all around the house like he’s looking for something to do. Freddie is a little envious of his energy, but also is pretty content to just fuck around on the Xbox all day.

“You should read a book or something,” Auston calls from the kitchen, like he’s Freddie’s mom. Freddie mashes the buttons on his controller, and pointedly ignores him. He’s pretty sure Auston is rearranging all the silverware in the cupboards out of sheer boredom right now.

By the early afternoon, Auston has done laundry and vacuumed, and presumably bought a bunch of useless shit off Amazon while he was at it. They reheated last night’s leftovers for lunch, then Auston falls asleep entirely on top of Freddie on the couch for two hours, tired out. 

It’s two hours of over 200 pounds of uncomfortable weight on him, but Freddie likes it anyway. 

After dinner, Auston purposely makes noise upstairs for half an hour, then comes downstairs dressed to go out.

Freddie lifts an eyebrow at him, wordless. _The Haunting of Hill House_ is playing on the TV, and Freddie pauses it. 

Auston covers his eyes as he passes, the absolute baby he is.

“I hate that show.” Auston shudders. “Anyway, you’re being boring so I’m going out. I’ll see you in a bit.”

It’s not unlike Auston to be so bored he wants to get out of the house, but what could there possibly be to do on _Boxing Day_? Literally everything is closed.

It’s fine. Freddie’s tired, so he shrugs.

“Practice tomorrow,” Freddie reminds him.

“Yeah, yeah.” Auston waves a hand at him, looking around for his left shoe.

“Not going to give me a kiss before you go?” Freddie asks, but Auston’s already turning the doorknob.

Auston blows him a kiss from across the room. “You can have a real one when I come back,” he says, stepping outside. “Love you,” he says over his shoulder.

Freddie smiles. “Love you, too,” he says, and presses play on the TV again.

The door slams after nine while Freddie’s grabbing water in the kitchen to head to bed. Freddie perks up, already thinking about having an early night with Auston. He sets the glass down and pops his head out into the doorway, but his greeting dies on his lips when he sees the look on Auston’s face.

Auston’s eyes are wide, the color drained from his skin like he just saw a ghost. His hair is a mess, like he’s been running his hands through it, the same way he gets before games when he’s trying to calm down in the dressing room. When Freddie rushes forward and gets his arms around him to pull him into a hug, Auston’s shaking.

“Where were you? What happened?” Freddie asks, heart in his throat. His mind is racing, immediately going to the worst, and he’s checking Auston over for injuries but there doesn’t seem to be anything noticeable on the outside.

Instead of answering, Auston presses his face into the crook of Freddie’s neck, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and holding on so hard it almost hurts. Auston shakes his head, pushing up on his toes to get closer.

Freddie holds him, still desperately trying to make sense of what’s happening.

“Auston, are you okay?” Freddie asks, struggling to keep calm. He runs a soothing hand down Auston’s trembling back. “I need you to tell me what happened.”

Auston pulls back, still holding onto Freddie’s shoulders, and Freddie’s stomach sinks when he sees the tears in Auston’s eyes.

In a second, Auston surges up and kisses Freddie hard, urgent and terrifying like he wants to crawl inside him. It’s raw, emotional and so full of force it’s scaring Freddie.

“I love you,” Auston says against his mouth, and his voice breaks. “I love you so much.”

“Baby,” Freddie says, feeling cracked open and afraid like he’s never been. “I love you, too. What do you need? Please,” he begs. “Tell me.”

“I’m okay,” Auston says, and pushes forward. It’s a lie, but all Freddie can do is hold on and keep them balanced until his back hits the wall, and Auston can kiss him again and again. When they break apart, Auston’s panting, out of breath.

“I want—” Auston sucks in a shaky breath. “Fuck me,” he says.

“What?” Freddie asks, stunned. “Not like this, Auston, I don’t—”

Auston cuts him off, kissing him hard again.

“Fuck me,” he pleads, hands already sliding under Freddie’s shirt and trying to tug it off. His touch is hot, burning as he trails his palms against Freddie’s skin. “Fred, please. I love you. I want you.”

“I— okay,” Freddie says, dizzy. It’s like his body just did a full 360 despite itself, the adrenaline from fear and worry exploding into shocking arousal at the way Auston’s suddenly touching him everywhere, pressing up against him, desperate.

They don’t even get the lights on when they get to the bedroom, Auston already naked as he shed his clothes while they kissed going up the stairs. Freddie’s never seen Auston like this before, never seen Auston want it, want him, so bad.

They have to break apart so Freddie can take his clothes off too and fumble for a condom and lube in the dark, but the second he gets his briefs off Auston’s grabbing at him again, like he can’t stand not touching Freddie. With Auston like this, Freddie’s helpless to kiss him again.

“I have to,” Freddie pants, trapping Auston’s hand against the pillow when he reaches up again. “I have to get the stuff,” he finishes, and Auston’s knees come up to bracket him like he can keep him there.

“Don’t want the condom,” Auston says, decisive. “I want you to come in me. ‘M yours, Fred, please. I want it.”

The words hit Freddie like a ton of bricks, and he has to close his eyes at that, shuddering at the thought. They’ve never done it bare before, and the idea of being inside Auston like that, nothing between them, is making him so hard he can’t think straight. But the part of him that wants to keep them safe is wavering, and he knows why.

“I’m clean,” Auston says, eyes wide and round, like he read Freddie’s mind. “And I trust you.” Freddie knows he means it.

“Fuck,” Freddie breathes, ducking down to kiss Auston again. “Okay, hang on,” he says, and stretches up to grab the lube from the dresser.

“Like this,” Auston says, spreading his legs wide and looking up right into Freddie’s eyes. “Come on, please.”

The prep is quick and Auston is so loud, enough that Freddie has to kiss him quiet for fear of the neighbors hearing. Still, the sound is nothing compared to the noise Auston makes when Freddie pushes in, high and choked off like it was forced out of him.

“Are you—” Freddie starts, afraid he’s hurt him, that the prep wasn’t nearly enough.

“Fuck me,” Auston says, an edge to his voice now. “Move.”

So Freddie pulls out almost all the way, before fucking back in with force. It’s so different doing this bare, so much better. Auston’s so tight around him he can barely move, and he can feel the heat of it rolling up to his belly as he pushes in as far as he can. Every time Auston clenches around him it’s so much more, and _oh, fuck_ , he’s not going to last.

“Freddie,” Auston whines, voice cracking as Freddie changes the angle. Auston hitches his hips up higher, wrapping both legs around his lower back and grinding up against him.

When Freddie looks down at Auston’s face, he’s stunned to see Auston blinking teary eyes at up at him.

He stills his hips, the worry from before back again, but Auston wraps both arms around his neck and pulls him down so he can hide his face against his throat.

“Keep going,” Auston says, muffled against Freddie’s skin, and Freddie moves again.

They fuck hard and fast, and the whole time Auston sheds tears into the crook of Freddie’s neck while Freddie feels like he’s losing control. _I love you,_ he keeps saying, breath catching as he cries. _I love you so fucking much._

When Freddie comes, he grips Auston’s bicep so hard he knows it’ll bruise. He fucks Auston through it, and feels Auston clench down around him impossibly tight when he comes too, without a hand on him.

“Fred,” Auston whispers as he trembles, face still hidden against him. Then he bites down on Freddie’s neck hard enough that it startles Freddie and he jerks, Auston’s teeth making a mess of his pale skin. They had both agreed to leave no marks long ago, but whatever made Auston like this tonight must’ve pushed that rule out of his mind.

Freddie’s arms give out and he slumps down against Auston. Freddie kisses him, softly this time, tasting salt on his swollen, bruised lips. Auston’s still crying, but he won’t stop kissing Freddie.

“Was that okay?” Freddie asks, voice shaking as he thumbs away the moisture on Auston’s cheeks. “Auston, I need to know if that was okay. If you’re okay.”

Auston nods, fast. “Yeah,” he says. “Yes. I love you,” he repeats. Freddie’s lost count of how many times he’s said it tonight.

“I know, I know. I love you too,” Freddie says. “But you’re scaring me, you know that?”

“Sorry,” Auston sighs. He slumps back against the sheets, pulling Freddie down with him.

Freddie moves to pull out of Auston, but Auston squeezes his thighs around him.

“Don’t go,” he says, kissing Freddie’s jaw. His fingers follow the path of his mouth, touch light like he thinks Freddie’s fragile and precious. He doesn’t know what Auston means, whether he thinks Freddie’s going to leave him, even though he always stays. It makes Freddie’s chest hurt.

And it’s not himself Freddie’s worried about breaking right now, anyway.

“I have to pull out,” Freddie says, and eases himself out as Auston sucks in a breath.

“Don’t go,” Auston pleads again, still holding Freddie tight.

They should shower, Freddie thinks, because doing it bare felt good but the mess is a nightmare. They’re sweaty and sticky and disgusting but Auston’s not crying anymore and he’s falling asleep. Freddie thinks about all of this and then lies down, pulling Auston and then the covers over him and holding him like it’s the only lifeline he has.

“We need to talk about this tomorrow,” Freddie says gently, pushing Auston’s sweaty bangs back.

Auston doesn’t say anything, but finally goes limp as he rests the palm of his hand against Freddie’s beating heart until his breathing evens out.

For obvious reasons, Freddie barely sleeps that night. When he wakes up again around three, he slides out of bed carefully. Auston stirs but doesn’t wake, and Freddie goes to the bathroom, relieved, shutting the door softly.

In the harsh light of the bathroom, the bite mark on his neck looks terrible, mouth shaped and bloody red. He hisses when he pokes at it, the touch stinging and painful. Freddie closes his eyes, letting his head hang as he thinks about how awful it will be tomorrow when the guys see it. And how awful it’ll be when he has to confront Auston about all of this, too.

Freddie splashes water on his face, then goes to the kitchen and chugs an entire bottle of water. He can’t remember the last time he was this exhausted after sex.

Auston is waking up a little when he comes back, and Freddie climbs back under the sheets as Auston reaches out for him.

“Where’d you go,” Auston mumbles, letting himself be pulled into the cradle of Freddie’s warmth.

“Just the bathroom,” Freddie whispers. “I’m here, love you,” he reassures, as Auston drifts back to sleep again.

At 7, Freddie decides there’s no point in going back to sleep again before practice. Besides, he feels so disgusting that he can’t stand to be in bed for a second longer, so he rolls out of bed and goes to take a shower.

Freddie’s washing shampoo out of his eyes when the bathroom door opens, and Auston steps into the shower from behind him. Auston wraps his arms around Freddie’s middle, resting his head against Freddie’s back, and clings.

It’s quiet. The water hitting the tiles drowns out their breathing, but Freddie can feel the way Auston’s chest moves against his spine. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Auston says eventually, breaking the silence, and it makes Freddie’s heart race as he realizes the hitch in his breath means Auston’s about to cry again.

“Hey, no.” Freddie turns around, brushing Auston’s wet hair out of his face. “You’re okay. I’m just worried, still.”

“I know,” Auston says, and kisses him. “Can we just. Can we not do this yet? Let’s talk later.”

“Okay,” Freddie says. “Let’s just shower, then.”

Freddie was already almost done when Auston joined him, but he lets Auston push conditioner through his hair to finish it off anyway.

Then, Freddie returns the favor, rinsing Auston’s hair and massaging his scalp. Auston shivers, eyes closed as he arches into Freddie’s hands and sighs.

When he’s done, Freddie backs Auston up against the tiles, scrubbing sweat and come off his body until he gets to the swell of Auston’s ass.

Auston lets his head fall back against the wall, breath going shallow as Freddie rubs a thumb gently at Auston’s hole.

“You’re a mess,” Freddie says. There’s dried lube and come everywhere, but Freddie can’t bring himself to feel bad about it.

Auston makes a face, but tugs Freddie closer with one leg around his waist, opening himself up more. “Your fault,” he pouts, and Freddie snorts.

“Can I?” Freddie asks, putting more pressure against Auston’s entrance.

“Yeah,” Auston exhales, and Freddie slowly pushes his finger inside.

Freddie adds another finger, water easing the way just a little, stretching wide and scissoring them and watching the sensations float across Auston’s face. Freddie fingers Auston until his knees start to shake, pressing relentlessly at his prostate as Auston moans.

 _This is how it should’ve been last night,_ Freddie thinks, as he sinks to his knees. _This is how it should always be._

“Holy fuck,” Auston whines, hand flying out to grip at Freddie’s hair.

“Fuck my mouth, okay?” Freddie says, glancing up at Auston through his lashes as he takes Auston into his mouth. With one hand on his hip, and the other one still buried in Auston’s ass, Freddie sucks Auston down to the root.

Auston’s hips buck up as Freddie swallows around him, angling his fingers up as he does.

In no time, Auston gets a rhythm going, confident as he fucks into Freddie’s mouth. It’s messy, spit everywhere as Freddie’s throat works, but Freddie pulls Auston forward until his nose touches his stomach, and curls his fingers with purpose.

He chokes, hard, but Auston comes, pulling at Freddie’s hair so hard it hurts, before his knees give out and he slides into Freddie’s arms, both of them blinking water out of their eyes.

“Let me,” Auston slurs, reaching for Freddie’s dick, clumsily getting him off.

Freddie honestly doesn’t think he’s going to get there like this, Auston’s grip awkward and slow. But Auston’s looking at him with half lidded eyes, and when he reaches up to touch the mark he made on Freddie’s neck last night, fingers feather light— Freddie comes.

“Holy shit,” Mitch crows, hand immediately going for Freddie’s neck when he takes his scarf off.

“Fuck off,” Freddie snaps, harsher than he normally would, and Mitch recoils, eyeing him strangely.

“Who pissed in your cheerios this morning,” he mutters, stalking back to bother Kappy.

“Probably the same person who attacked him last night.” Kappy smirks.

He holds his hands up when Freddie shoots him a look. “Hey, it’s not a bad thing. Get it, FredEx.”

From his own stall, Auston won’t meet anyone’s eyes.

By some miracle, they make it through morning skate. Auston skates fine, and Freddie’s concentration may be shot from fatigue, but he stops what he needs to stop, too. Babcock doesn’t say anything too scathing anyway, so that’s a victory.

Auston stops him in the hallway before he gets into the dressing room, emerging from the shadows like he was waiting for Freddie this whole time.

“I’m getting food with Will. See you after?” Auston asks. He’s rocking back and forth on his skate blades, then leaning forward on his stick, looking everywhere but at Freddie.

“Sure,” Freddie says, tired. He doesn’t think Auston’s actively avoiding him, but he’s afraid this will be like a festering wound, especially as he doesn’t even know what’s wrong to begin with. Beyond being worried, he’s frustrated, and he can’t hide it anymore.

Something flashes across Auston’s face, and he nods once, short. Then he continues down to the dressing room, and Freddie’s standing there, frozen, until Sparksy taps him on the back of the leg as he passes.

Mo corners him after he finishes showering, head cast down and voice low.

“Can we talk?”

Freddie startles. “Now?”

Mo nods quickly, averting his eyes, angling his head towards the door.

Across the room, Mitch is teasing Auston about something, and Auston’s laughing and shoving at him, embarrassed. More than anything, Freddie’s relieved Auston seems okay again.

Freddie follows Mo down the corridor to a deserted corner.

“What’s up, Fours?” Freddie asks. “Everything okay?”

The laugh that comes out of Mo is forced, nervous. “I’m— Listen,” he starts. Mo’s eyes keep darting to the mark on Freddie’s neck. When he catches himself looking, he looks down purposefully and starts picking at his nails, and eventually he sticks his hands in his pockets and taps his foot instead.

“I’m sorry,” Mo says. He takes a deep breath. “I know it’s not an excuse, and it won’t fix anything. You have every right to be mad at me, but I didn’t know. I swear.”

He lifts his head, blue eyes round and genuinely pained. “And it won’t happen again,” he finishes, and leans back on his heels.

“What,” Freddie says, flat.

Mo looks surprised. “Wait. You don’t know?”

“Know what,” Freddie says, confused as all hell. “Did something happen? Did you do something?”

Suddenly, it seems like Mo’s nerves ratchet up a gear, and he runs a hand through his hair, breaking eye contact.

“Oh fuck,” Mo mutters, and looks back down at the ground. “You should— oh, god—”

There’s a moment of painful silence, before Mo lifts his head. He looks past Freddie’s face when he says, “Talk to Auston. Please.”

And then he pushes by Freddie, hurrying down the hallway, and he’s gone.

The drive home gives Freddie enough time to think about what the fuck just happened with Mo, but it’s also long enough that he thinks himself in circles trying to piece together what happened last night and everything Mo told him, the way Auston’s acted every time Mo’s been brought up, recently.

The worst part is that he thinks it’s falling into place in his head, but the thought of being right makes him sick. He can barely concentrate on the road.

Auston’s on the couch when Freddie comes home, and he stands too quickly to be casual.

“Freddie” Auston moves like he’s going to hug him. Freddie genuinely doesn’t know what he would do right now if Auston touches him like he did last night, this morning, nearly every day for months.

Luckily, Auston seems to sense Freddie’s aversion right now, and backs off, shrinking in on himself.

Freddie takes a breath and meets Auston’s eyes. “What happened with Mo,” he says, and he can’t keep his voice from shaking.

Auston sucks in a sharp breath, taking a step back, caught. “He kissed me.” All the fight drains out of Freddie, and he sits heavily on the couch.

“What happened,” Freddie says again. He closes his eyes and puts his head in his hands. It feels like he’s hanging on to everything by a thread right now, and he’s not sure what he wants Auston’s answer to be. All he can focus on is the tiny flutter of relief that Auston said _Mo_ kissed _him_ , and not the other way around.

“ _Nothing_ ,” Auston insists. The couch dips next to him. There’s conviction in Auston’s voice, and it makes him look up again. Auston’s chewing on his lip, but there’s something in his posture that makes Freddie inclined to believe him.

“I went to hang out with him yesterday, that’s it, I promise. And I was going to tell him about us, because you know I wanted to. I wanted him to know, too. But we were playing Xbox, and then I died ‘cause I fucking suck, you know, and I knocked his controller out of his hand so he would die too, and we were laughing and he grabbed me like we were wrestling, and then—”

Auston pauses his rambling, the way he gets when he’s nervous, drawing in a shaky breath. “You have to know I love you, Freddie. I didn’t. He— he just put his hand on my face and kissed me. That’s it. And then I pulled back and told him about us, and he felt horrible, after.”

“Then you left?” Freddie asks, praying he doesn’t sound too hopeful and pathetic.

“Yeah,” Auston nods. “I came back here. To you. I was—” Auston laughs, humorless.

“I was pretty fucked up about it, too. You saw.”

“Fuck,” Freddie says, and they sit there in silence, the distance between them only a foot but feeling like nothing short of an ocean.

“Are you mad at me?” Auston asks, and his voice is tiny even in the quiet, the way it never is with Freddie.

“Fuck,” Freddie says again, this time with feeling. “Yeah, you idiot, I’m fucking mad at you. Come here,” he says, and holds his arms out.

Auston blinks, and scoots closer in a second, throwing his arms around Freddie and putting his weight behind the hug. The force of it knocks Freddie back, and then they’re just lying on the couch, Auston on top of him, breathing hard.

“Sorry,” Auston says, wavery and small against Freddie’s shirt.

Freddie slides a hand up Auston’s back, resting it between his shoulder blades. “It’s okay, I’m not mad that it happened.”

Auston raises his head.

“You’re not?”

Freddie smiles warily. “No. I mean, it sucks, but he didn’t know, and it didn’t go any further. I wish you’d just told me, though. I’m pissed you scared the shit out of me last night, Auston. You should’ve told me.”

Auston smiles back, then drops his head on Freddie’s shoulder again. His hand comes up to play with the collar of Freddie’s shirt, and it’s so adorable Freddie feels like his heart is melting.

“Yeah,” Auston says. “I just felt bad. I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought you’d be mad.”

Freddie presses a kiss to the top of Auston’s head.

“I trust you,” he says. And it’s the truth.

Apparently, he’s even more exhausted than he had thought, because he sleeps for almost five hours that afternoon. When he wakes up, he’s disoriented and hot under the comforter, and Auston is already long gone, his side of the bed cold and empty.

Freddie sits up. The floor of the room that is usually littered with clothes is spotless. He can smell food coming from the kitchen, too, so Auston’s definitely been up for a while then.

After lazing around in bed for a bit, replying to Mitch and Willy’s snapchats, eventually he decides to get up for good. It’s nearly seven, so there’s no point in putting on much when they’re probably just going to hang around the house until it’s time for bed. Hopefully they can get a few rounds in, too, Freddie thinks. He ends up just rifling through his side of the dresser and pulling on an old shirt, then going to check on Auston.

When he gets downstairs, Auston is standing at the stove in nothing but Freddie’s sweatpants, back turned towards the kitchen entryway. Freddie can hear the dryer going, so Auston must feel really bad if he decided to do laundry as well.

Auston’s poking at something on the counter, and Freddie watches in amusement for a bit at Auston’s slumped posture, clearly dissatisfied at whatever he made. Or tried to make, anyway.

Freddie walks up behind him and catches him in a hug. Auston startles and actually jumps a bit in surprise, dropping his spatula.

“Jeez, Fred,” Auston says, slapping gently at Fred’s forearm. “Warn a guy.”

“Sorry,” Freddie says, and presses a kiss to Auston’s bare shoulder in apology.

He glances over Auston at the food he was inspecting earlier, and snorts when he sees the chicken, slightly burnt.

“Looks good,” he teases, and probably deserves the real smack he gets to his arm at that.

“Fuck you,” Auston grumbles, and starts squirming out of Freddie’s hold.

Freddie doesn’t let him go, tightening his grip and pressing another kiss to the side of Auston’s neck.

“I’m kidding,” he says, and lets Auston turn around in his arms, before kissing him softly.

“You better be,” Auston says when they pull apart.

Freddie’s pleased to see a flush creeping down his chest, and he reaches up to tuck a strand of Auston’s hair behind his ear. He runs his thumb along Auston’s cheekbone, down the curve of his jaw, to the jut of his chin, and kisses him again.

“Thank you for this,” Freddie says against his mouth. “I love you.”

Auston grins, small. “Love you, too,” he says, and turns back to the food.

Despite the small mishap with the chicken, dinner tastes great. They eat slow, talking about nothing while Freddie runs his bare foot up under the cuff of Auston’s, or his, sweats. Auston has a few drinks with dinner and is pretty loose by the time they finish up, so Freddie takes the plates and glasses to the sink.

As he’s running them under the water, Auston comes and perches himself on the counter with very little coordination, kicking sideways at Freddie.

“Do the dishes later,” he says, eyes bright. “Come to bed.”

It’s tempting, but Freddie honestly hates having crusty food and dirty dishes piled in the sink, so he shakes his head.

“Go get the laundry while I finish up. There’s no rush.”

Auston sighs, huge and dramatic, but slides off the counter anyway.

By the time Freddie gets upstairs, Auston’s already naked, sweats in a pile on the floor. It’s a sight, and Freddie’s goes hot in a flash.

The funny thing about being drunk is that your body’s always trying to convince you you’re not, despite the fact that your coordination and self-control is pretty much shot. This is entirely true for Auston, who can’t get his hands to stop trying to touch Freddie everywhere to help with pretty much anything but is also pretty dramatically hindering the process of Freddie getting his dick anywhere near him anytime soon.

“Stop,” Freddie says, but feels a helpless grin tugging at his lips as Auston giggles endlessly.

“’M not ev’n drunk, lemme help,” Auston insists, but can’t even keep a straight face as he does, immediately dissolving into laughter.

Somehow, Freddie ends up working orgasms out of them both as Auston hides laughter against his skin the whole time. Auston passes out nearly instantly once he comes in Freddie’s mouth, which pretty much ruins the earlier prospect of a couple rounds tonight.

When he’s finally drifting off to sleep that night, Auston curled against his side, it feels like all the shit from yesterday and earlier that morning was ages ago. Through dinner then sex, a nearly perfect night, he had almost forgotten about it. Right now, sleepy and satisfied with the love of his fucking life pressed skin to skin with him, it’s easy to push away the memories of the way he felt earlier, when he thought his world was moments from falling apart.

Their first game after break is an away game, which normally would be fine, but is stupid this time because they only have one, before they’re home for a stretch again. It’s not much of a road trip, just a hassle to have to fly just for one game.

Freddie and Enzo sit across from Mo and Auston on the short flight to Columbus, three of them playing cards while Auston dozes on Mo’s shoulder, headphones in.

Mo seemed surprised when Auston had tugged him into the seat next to him, directly across from Freddie, and hasn’t gotten over it yet. He’s obviously still nervous about what happened with Auston, and he’s so tense that Freddie isn’t sure how Auston’s comfortable resting on him.

He wants to assure Mo that it’s fine. He and Auston talked it out, and now they just have to hash it out with Mo, too. At least he clearly feels bad, which Freddie takes to be a good thing, in the grand scheme of things. Freddie can’t really say anything now though, especially not with Enzo clearing table right now in poker, so he resolves to wait.

At some point, Enzo collects his earnings then gets up to go to the bathroom, and it’s just the three of them left. Auston’s still asleep, though, still touching Mo.

Mo is looking resolutely down at the table, like it’s the most interesting thing there.

“We talked about it,” Freddie says, and Mo’s head shoots up, looking scared.

“It’s fine,” Freddie continues. “Seriously. You didn’t know. We’re cool.”

“Oh.” Mo’s shoulders drop like all his strings have been cut. “I feel so bad, still. I didn’t mean to, you know.”

Freddie nods. “I know. It’s chill, I told you.”

Then he gets an idea, remembering the conversation he and Auston had a few days ago.

“Why don’t you come over for dinner when we get back?”

“Really?” Mo sounds genuinely shocked.

“Yeah.” Freddie shrugs. “We should hang out more. All of us.”

They both glance at Auston, still passed out.

“Okay,” Mo says, and grins toothily at him. “Just say when.”

Auston seems very on board with the whole dinner with Mo plan, at least until they get killed by the Islanders and they have to actually start preparing for the dinner the very next day.

They have to go grocery shopping, because they’re out of pretty much everything now that Christmas is over. Auston leans on the shopping cart and drives it around as recklessly as expected, and Freddie inspects every tomato they pick very carefully.

“What else do we need for pasta?” Freddie asks, tossing Auston like eight different kinds of cheese.

“Probably actual pasta,” Auston says. Right. Freddie grabs three boxes, just in case.

Neither of them actually looked up a recipe before they left, so they don’t actually know which spices they’re going to need. Auston grabs a ton of the leafy shit (cilantro? Rosemary? Freddie is unsure), and Freddie knocks like half the spice rack into their cart.

“Dessert,” Auston reminds him, once they’ve finished loading up the pasta ingredients.

“Shit,” Freddie says. “I have no idea what to make.”

Auston lights up. “Apple crumble!” he exclaims, then whips the cart around very violently to go get apples.

Auston starts fidgeting as soon as he gets the dessert in the oven, and changes his sweater at least three times.

“Hey,” Freddie says, catching him by the collar when it looks like he’s going to change again. “You look fine. It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

Freddie rolls his eyes. “ _Yes_. It’s just Mo, anyway.”

“Right. Just Mo,” Auston repeats, but it doesn’t sound like that helped any.

Auston messes around in the living room while Freddie sets the table, pasta on the stove on low heat.

“Red or white wine?” Freddie asks.

“Red,” Auston replies. “I don’t know anything about wine,” he adds a beat later, and Freddie snorts.

When Freddie’s done, he joins Auston in the living room where he’s pacing restlessly. He’s resorted to chewing his nails, overcome with nerves.

Freddie reaches him, grabbing his hands and pulling them away from his mouth.

“What’s got you so nervous, huh?”

“Nothing,” Auston says. “Just want him to like it.”

“He will,” Freddie promises, then kisses each of the fingertips on Auston’s right hand. “Don’t bite your nails. Bad habit,” Freddie says, then presses a kiss to his open palm.

Auston’s still looking at him, unbearably fond, and slides his hand over to cup Freddie’s cheek. He looks like he’s got something else to say, but then the doorbell rings.

Mo is in a nice shirt under his open jacket when they answer the door, and he’s holding a bottle of wine.

“You didn’t have to bring anything,” Auston says.

Mo hands the bottle to him. “Felt like I probably should. Thank you for inviting me, you guys.”

“Of course.” Freddie beams, and moves to let Mo inside.

Freddie goes to plate the food while Auston puts away the wine, then they sit on the same side of the table across from Mo. Freddie can feel Auston’s leg jittering under the table, still inexplicably nervous, and reaches down to put his hand on his thigh and settle him.

Mo’s eyes track the movement, before he looks back up at Auston, then at Freddie.

“So,” Mo begins, when they start eating. “How long have you two been together?”

“Depends on how you define together,” Auston answers, then blushes when he realizes how that sounds.

“We didn’t start dating until March,” Freddie clarifies. It’s surprisingly easy to eat pasta left-handed, Freddie thinks, other still on Auston’s thigh.

“But you were, you know,” Mo waves a hand, “for longer?” Mo asks. Then he coughs into his hand. “I’m sorry, that’s really rude of me.”

“No, it’s okay,” Auston says. “We were hooking up for about a month before that. Before we made it official.”

“Oh,” Mo says. He takes a sip of his wine. “How did you guys get together, then?”

Freddie shrugs, unfazed by Mo’s questions. It must be weird for him to see his teammates like this. “It just sort of happened, I guess. Nothing serious, at first, but I caught feelings pretty fast.”

He glances over at Auston before continuing, who’s looking back at him with a smile.

“Then we were both injured in March, and pretty much just hooking up to pass the time, but we were alone and you were all on the road. I was practically living here, and realized that I really liked him. I wanted to spend time with him all the time, not just when we were injured.”

“Then he asked me out,” Auston says. He ducks his head, mouth twitching. “He brought flowers to my door.”

“Wow,” Mo says, sounding out of breath. “That’s— that’s really sweet, guys. I can’t believe you guys really haven’t told anyone for this long, though.”

Mo’s looking at Freddie, but Auston’s looking at Mo.

“We told you,” Freddie says, light. “That’s a start,” and all of them laugh.

They eat slowly, working their way through their bottle of wine, then Mo’s as well. Auston in particular seems very thirsty tonight, out drinking them both by a longshot. Mo asks a lot of questions, curious, and they do their best to answer them dutifully, even as the alcohol begins to make him feel fuzzy.

By the time all of them have finished their food, they’re just talking and laughing about anything and everything, just like old times. Three best friends, drinking together.

Freddie goes and gets the dessert, because Auston is blinking kind of slowly now.

“I made that,” Auston says when Freddie sets the pan on the table. “So you better eat it, Mo.”

Mo grins at him. “Of course I will. I bet it’s great, Auston.”

Auston flushes, leaning into Freddie to hide his blush as Mo coos at them.

They polish it off quickly, because it _is_ very good. Mo excuses himself to go to the bathroom after, and Freddie clears the plates while Auston runs the sink.

Auston is clumsy, limbs loose from the wine, and Freddie catches a plate before Auston almost lets it slip out of his hands under the water.

“Got so drunk at dinner with a guest you can’t even do this dishes,” Freddie teases. “Where are your manners?”

“Shut up,” Auston laughs, but turns around with soapy hands and puts them on Freddie’s shirt.

“ _Auston,_ ” Freddie admonishes, looking down at his wet shirt, covered in tiny dish soap bubbles. He backs Auston into the counter, water still running next to him.

“You are such a brat,” he says, as Auston laughs himself sick. Freddie has to kiss the sounds right out of his mouth, as Auston soaks more of his shirt with his wandering hands.

An intake of breath behind them startles him, and Freddie jumps away from Auston quickly. He has no idea how much of that Mo has seen— he honestly had forgotten Mo was still here. He straightens out his shirt, but it’s not like Mo didn’t see them, or can’t see the damp prints of Auston’s hands all over him.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Mo says, awkward. “I was— should I go?”

“No, no,” Freddie says quickly, Auston red and embarrassed next to him. “Sorry. We got a little, um. Carried away.”

“I can go,” Mo offers again. He’s not looking at Freddie, but instead at Auston. Freddie glances over, and Auston’s staring back at Mo, too.

“Stay,” Auston says, finally. “We can watch a movie,” he suggests.

Mo nods, unsure, but goes to the living room anyway.

Freddie nudges Auston. Auston gets the message, drying his hands and getting the TV set up.

He can hear Mo and Auston talking in the living room, but they’re too quiet for him to make out what they’re saying. He finishes off rinsing the dishes and loads the dishwasher before joining them on the couch.

He can’t stop thinking about Mo watching them kiss, and his stomach twists. He’s not sure if it’s in a good or bad way, but he spends the whole movie thinking about Mo’s wide eyes when they broke apart, even as Auston leans on Freddie’s shoulder.

“That went well,” Auston says, cheery. He’s straddling Freddie on the bed, sober now.

“Yes,” Freddie says, because he’s more focused on Auston’s boner poking him in the stomach than anything else right now.

“I don’t know why I was nervous,” Auston remarks. “It was great. I had fun.”

“Me too,” Freddie grits out. Auston’s scooted down, and now their cocks are brushing and if Freddie doesn’t any relief soon, he’s going to be pissed.

“Wow,” Auston comments, looking down at where they’re touching. “Impatient.”

Freddie doesn’t want to say that he’s been a little turned on since they were caught in the kitchen, because he doesn’t know how to explain that. Instead, he lies back, pulling Auston on top of him, and kisses him so he doesn’t say anything dumb.

Freddie lets Auston fuck him, and they go slow, because it’s been a while. Auston touches him gently everywhere the whole time, like he thinks touching him can make sure it doesn’t hurt. But it _doesn’t_ hurt, because Auston is always careful with Freddie when he’s on top.

As focused as Auston is as he moves, Freddie’s still thinking about Mo. His mind wanders to how Mo would look if he saw them like this, instead of kissing. Maybe Mo would like that, and maybe Mo would touch them both if he asked, eyes round and always flushed.

Freddie dreams about Mo and Auston that night. He wakes up overheated and heart beating double time, but not panicked or angry, just aroused and confused. He rubs his eyes, still seeing Mo holding Auston’s hand as he eased himself into him, both of them staring right at Freddie the whole time.

Next to him, Auston sleeps on.

Freddie’s only goal at the team New Year’s Eve party is to get completely hammered, something he hasn’t done in a while. It seems like a very good way to end the year. 

He and Auston agree to arrive separately again, and this time he gets there first. He takes a bunch of dumb looking photos in the photobooth, and then knocks back a few drinks. Someone hands Freddie a pair of 2019 glasses, and he wanders around with them on and talks to everyone.

He catches Auston’s gaze across the room, one arm around Mitch and a drink in his other hand, and Auston offers him a lopsided smile and a toast.

It’s almost midnight before he actually gets around to talking to Auston though. He spent a lot of time asking the Gardiners about their new baby, then even more time talking to Zach about their wedding plans this summer. It’s supposed to be a big one, because Zach has a lot of friends and doesn’t want anyone to feel left out.

Freddie catches Auston around the waist as he’s talking to Brownie, and leans in over his shoulder.

“Mind if I steal him for a second?” Freddie asks, and Auston gives him a smile. Brownie doesn’t even blink, just gives him a wave before Freddie pulls him away.

“Missed me that much already, Fred?” Auston asks him, and plucks the champagne right out of Freddie’s hand, downing it in one quick gulp.

“Just wanted you to be with me when it gets to midnight,” Freddie admits. Auston’s face softens at that, and he presses a hand briefly to Freddie’s waist, the most they can do with the team and their families milling around.

They’re pulled out of it by Mo, who is so red it looks like he’s sunburnt.

“What’s up, guys?” Mo hiccups, and throws an arm around them both.

Freddie and Auston share an indulgent grin, before they steady him together.

“Nothing much, Fours,” Auston says. “Just waiting for the countdown.”

“Ah.” Mo seems to sober up at that, and stands up straighter. He’s still wobbly though, so Freddie and Auston keep their hands on him.

“One minute!” Someone calls, and Freddie and Auston snap their attention to each other.

Freddie leans in, putting his mouth to Auston’s ear. “We can go to the bathroom, if you want.”

Auston bites his lip, then shakes his head. He reaches down, linking their index fingers together. “Later,” he says, then takes his hand off Mo to tap his fingers against his own mouth.

Freddie turns back to Mo, who’s watching Auston like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it, gaze dropping to their hands, then up to Auston’s mouth. He watches him like he wants something, something he can’t have. Freddie’s head is spinning, but someone starts the countdown at 10, and suddenly Auston is the only thing in his sight.

“Hi,” Auston says, dopey and cute.

“Hi, Auston,” Freddie says back, and knows the look on his own face is reflected in Auston’s expression right now.

They don’t kiss, when the time comes, but Auston wraps his hand around Freddie’s finger, squeezes once. Someday in the future, Freddie thinks, he’s going to be able to kiss Auston in front of all the people who love them, and they’re not going to have to hide ever again.

For now, though, they share a private smile, and Auston drops his hand.

Mo is gone now, so the two of them go back to the drinks table, and finally set about blacking out for the night.

They wake up on New Year’s Day with terrible hangovers, though, and Freddie regrets everything for a solid 10 hours. At least until his headache subsides, and he finishes puking his guts out, and then gets to kiss his favorite person on earth on the first day of 2019.

Then Freddie gets injured, Auston goes through a goal drought, and everything goes to shit.

After New Year’s, the month of January is, to be frank, really fucking awful. It’s not that they’re losing every game, but they’re barely breaking .500. Freddie can’t even play for two fucking weeks when he feels a tweak in his hamstring one game. He’s confined to the press box for the entirety of the homestand, then stays in Toronto alone to do PT when the team leaves for a short road trip.

Auston has one goal in his last eight, and they can’t even fuck out their frustration nearly as much as Freddie would’ve liked because of Freddie’s stupid hamstring. On top of it all, Auston’s tense about something else entirely, and is distant and weird for no particular reason Freddie can discern.

When they do make time to have comparatively un-strenuous sex, Auston is always weirdly quiet, never saying much. He’s lazier than ever, and Freddie gets through some pretty mediocre orgasms for the first time in a long time.

Then Auston will lie there, eyes open, and stare at the ceiling, completely lost in his own head.

“The goals will come,” Freddie assures him on one of these nights. Auston hums, like he’s not really even listening, unblinking.

“Are things alright, with you guys?” Mo asks him one day as they’re getting water during a lull in practice. Auston is playing keep away with Mitch, laughing loudly as Mitch trips him, a sound Freddie feels like he hasn’t heard in forever.

Freddie shrugs. He can never lie to Mo, so he says nothing.

Things change dramatically when Freddie gets fully cleared for games again. Auston wants to fuck all the time, suddenly, always desperate. What’s stranger is his behavior when they do— when Freddie fucks him, he’s always insistent on it being slow and sweet. He still stays quiet, saying nothing but _I love you_ over and over as Freddie takes him apart. But when he fucks Freddie, it’s like he’s a completely different person, taking him hard and fast. He talks the whole time, possessive and voice low, but is still attentive and makes sure Freddie feels good.

Auston goes out less and less with the team, though they don’t have much to celebrate with the disorganized way they’ve been playing recently. Auston still can’t score, but Freddie’s not doing much better, though that has more to do with the fact that his team can’t bail him out on defense, ever. When they are alone, Auston’s hot and cold, one second wrapped entirely around Freddie on the couch, and the next swearing under his breath about something and also nothing at all and stomping up and down the stairs.

Sometimes he’ll just stand out on the balcony alone, in nothing but a thin hoodie, and stare out at the skyline until he gets too cold to stay out there any longer. It scares Freddie, but Auston won’t talk about it, even when Freddie asks.

The only constant through it all is Auston’s continued silence, like a brewing storm.

Auston has one goal in his last 13, and they lose in embarrassing fashion at home to the Coyotes. That’s the game that breaks Auston, losing to his hometown team that objectively is so much worse than they are, without even a point to his name.

Freddie drives home, because Auston’s so angry and frustrated that it feels like he’s nothing but a ticking time bomb.

Freddie’s tired, and he wants to go to bed, but he can’t leave Auston, not like this. He follows Auston to the kitchen, watching as Auston goes straight for the vodka.

“Don’t do that,” Freddie says, as gentle as he can, but Auston just scoffs at him, and starts pouring himself a glass.

“I played like shit,” Auston says, so calm it’s unnatural and scary. “I can do whatever I want, right now.”

Despite how level-headed he sounds, his hands are shaking so bad that he spills it everywhere as he pours.

“Getting drunk isn’t going to fix anything,” Freddie says. _It’s just going to make you even harder to be around,_ Freddie thinks, but doesn’t say aloud.

“Easy for you to say,” Auston snarls, mean. “When you play badly everyone blames the rest of us, too.”

Freddie feels a burst of anger. He’s done nothing but be patient and kind to Auston through this entire _month_ of bullshit, and now Auston’s taking it out on Freddie?

“Watch it,” Freddie says, voice low. He grips the counter, trying to calm down.

Auston keeps pushing. “Fuck off. I don’t tell you how to make saves, so don’t tell me how to score goals.” Then he takes a mouthful of the vodka, grimacing as he swallows it down.

“Maybe someone should,” Freddie fires back, temper flaring. “Since you clearly don’t know how, recently.”

“Get the fuck away from me,” Auston says, pointing a finger at Freddie. He brings the glass to his mouth, and finishes the rest of the drink.

“Give me that,” Freddie demands, reaching for the glass. “You’re enough of an asshole already without alcohol in you.”

Auston jerks his arm away, but his grip slips, and it goes tumbling to the floor, shattering. The noise seems almost deafening.

“Fuck,” Auston mutters, and kneels like he’s going to start picking the pieces up, barehanded.

Freddie gets down there with him, grabbing at Auston’s hands before he can cut himself like an idiot. He’s still furious, but he’s not going to let Auston hurt himself right now.

“Let me go,” Auston says, trying to pull his hands back, but Freddie’s stronger, and doesn’t have alcohol in him. He pulls Auston to his feet, hands still wrapped around his wrists.

Auston struggles, trying to get away, but Freddie turns them around, careful of the glass on the floor and their socked feet, until he can get behind Auston and wrap his arms around him, crossing his wrists against his chest.

“What’s your fucking problem,” Auston cries, still squirming. Freddie has all the leverage though, and holds him still until Auston finally stops fighting, slumping against him. The anger has dissipated from Freddie too, and now he’s just left with worry.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Freddie says in his ear. Both of them are breathing hard, so it barely registers when Auston starts crying.

“I can’t,” Auston says, just like he did when they fought last month. “I can’t. I _can’t_.”

“Yes, you can,” Freddie placates, pressing his cheek to Auston’s, feeling wetness on his face. “You’ve been weird all month. Tell me. I want to help.”

Auston starts crying hard now, and starts struggling again, too.

“You want me to tell you?” Auston shouts, leaning away from Freddie. He’s getting mad again, and the angrier he gets the harder he cries. “You want me to say that everything sucks? Everything is falling apart! I can’t play hockey, I’ve been an asshole for a fucking month, and I’m probably going to lose you, too!”

The last part is so unexpected that Freddie’s grip goes slack, and Auston pushes out of his hold. They stand across from each other, separated by the broken glass on the floor.

“What?” Freddie asks. “You’re not going to lose me, Auston.”

Auston shakes his head. “You don’t know that.”

“How could I not?” Freddie doesn’t understand. “What makes you think that? Did I do something?”

Auston laughs, but it’s hollow. Sad. “No.”

“Whatever it is, it’s clearly been bothering you since that thing about Mo,” Freddie says. Auston turns away, mouth twisting. And then it hits him.

It’s Mo. It’s always been about Mo. The fight last month had been about the joke about Auston and Mo. When Auston had come home clearly upset and shaken up it was because he had kissed Mo. Auston acted weird after New Year’s Eve, when Freddie thought it looked like Mo wanted to kiss him, for real, that time, and Freddie thought it was just the goal drought this whole time. And now, they’re fighting because Auston won’t tell him something, and Freddie thinks he knows what it is.

“Is it Mo,” Freddie asks, shaky. It doesn’t even come out as a question.

Auston swallows, taking a step back. “I like him,” he whispers. A confession. It sounds so childish, yet Freddie feels like the ground has fallen out from under his feet.

Then Auston dissolves into a fresh wave of tears.

“Don’t break up with me,” Auston begs, face wet. “I love you.”

Freddie’s legs feel like concrete. He can’t move, even though his instincts are telling him to go to Auston.

“Are you in love with him?”

Auston stares, looking small and like he’s going to break into a million pieces. “I don’t know.”

It’s not a no.

“Nothing has to happen,” Auston says, desperate, like he’s trying to convince Freddie but also himself. “I never did anything. I’m trying to stop it. I’ll stop.”

Freddie still doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to end things with Auston. He never wants that. That’s the only thing he knows, right now.

“We should go to bed,” is what he settles on, finally. “Talk tomorrow.”

Auston’s face falls. “I can sleep in the guest room,” he offers, hesitant.

When Freddie doesn’t say anything, Auston sighs, wet and heartbroken, then goes.

Freddie stays in the kitchen, unmoving until he hears the door close, then picks up the broken pieces of the glass with a towel.

The weird part is that they’re technically not even fighting anymore, and yet this feels worse than anything mean they had screamed at each other earlier.

This time, Freddie feels like an intruder in the home he and Auston have steadily made for them both in this apartment this past year. He’s in Auston’s bed in Auston’s house while Auston sleeps, or doesn’t sleep, in the guest room.

It’s stupid, but the thought of Auston awake by himself in a room that’s not theirs is what snaps something inside of him, and suddenly, or maybe finally, he feels himself start to silently cry.

He has no idea what Auston wants, right now. He has no idea what the plan is with them, for once. It had always been so easy when it seemed like they were it for each other. And now Auston keeps saying, keeps thinking, _what about_ Mo?

The tears are slowing now, but he can’t tell if he’s angry or sad or hopeless or if he just misses having Auston in bed with him already. He wants to go into the guest room and press Auston into the sheets and hold his wrists and kiss his fingertips and lick into his mouth and say _mine. I love you please don’t leave me_.

He has the sudden urge to tell Auston that Freddie can’t do this thing with anyone else but Auston. He wants Auston to know that every second with him feels like every good thing all at once, even when things get hard. He wants to say that he’s never felt anything like this before, and he’s not sure that it could ever get better, but he’s willing to do everything he can to find out. There is nothing in the world like this, and there is no one like Auston.

But how can he say that? How can he put into words the feeling that blooms when Auston kisses him in the morning before he even opens his eyes fully, when Auston gets enveloped in hugs by four pairs of arms but always looks back at him every time he scores a dizzying goal, when Auston cries out, hands threatening to tear the sheets apart, a high, sweet sound like Freddie’s all he could ever need to feel good again? How does he tell Auston that he is everything?

Freddie’s 29. He’s been in love before. But this— this is a different beast entirely. This is an all-consuming love that threatens to swallow him whole. This is love that burns so bright and so hot that it hurts him and scares him and all he ever wants is more. This is love that he is never letting go of.

That’s the thought that makes Freddie’s heart break, that he has to give all of this up.

But— Freddie’s thought himself in circles all night about the prospect of losing Auston, and still, there’s a small part of him that he doesn’t dare let grow too hopeful, telling himself that he doesn’t have to lose him.

It’s not like they don’t ever fight, because it’s pretty much impossible when two people are as stubborn and competitive as they are. Despite it, Freddie’s never doubted for a second that Auston loves him in the same terrifying way Freddie loves him. Auston would never leave him.

Auston has the biggest heart of anyone he’s ever met. He loves what he loves fully and completely, from his family to hockey to Freddie, and now, maybe, Mo. He would never do anything without putting his entire heart and soul behind it, and he wouldn’t have told Freddie if he wasn’t sure he could make it work. So perhaps Auston loving Mo, too, doesn’t have to change anything, because loving someone else too could never make Auston love Freddie less.

Freddie thinks about Mo, then. One of his best friends, who is always a calming, good, presence in his life. Mo, who has the bluest eyes and the softest voice and the loudest laugh. Mo, who would be good for them both. If Freddie had been able to take his eyes off Auston for even a minute, then maybe he would’ve realized sooner that Mo has always loved Auston, and Freddie could love Mo, too.

His mind wanders to Christmas and the snow and the scarf and Mo who put his hands on Auston like he would never ever hurt him. Then he thinks about dinner, and the way Mo had quietly watched them both as they shared a kiss and a moment against the kitchen counter. Those moments, in theory, should’ve been for Freddie and Auston alone. But having Mo there to be a part of it felt… good. It felt right.

In the end, it seems simple. If Mo loves Auston, too, then shouldn’t that be enough?

Freddie’s not a jealous person. He never has been, but he’s always been a little bit afraid that how he feels about Auston would turn him into one. And yet, when he thinks about the way Mo looks at Auston, the way Mo sometimes looks at him, too— he only feels joy. He feels excitement and hope and not a single shred of doubt at how they would fit together.

So what’s the fucking problem, then?

Freddie stares at the ceiling, alone and cold, and lies awake for a long time.

Auston is standing at the kitchen counter, staring out the window. The coffee machine is going, and Auston has two mugs set on the table, including the one with a chipped handle that Freddie always uses. His feet and legs are bare, wearing nothing but his underwear and a sweatshirt that covers his hands, braced on the lip of the counter. It’s Freddie’s sweatshirt, he realizes, too big, and then belatedly also remembers that Auston hadn’t come into their room to grab a change of clothes, last night or this morning.

Freddie hadn’t been quiet coming downstairs, so Auston knows he’s there. Still, neither of them makes a move to say anything. Auston doesn’t even turn around to look at him.

Freddie is reminded of the scene in here last night, broken glass on the ground and his heart threatening to shatter in his chest. Auston had been brave, last night, and summoned up the courage to reveal his heaviest secret to Freddie.

Maybe it’s Freddie’s turn to be brave, now.

He clears his throat. “I didn’t mean all the shit I said last night,” he starts, tentative.

Auston visibly stiffens. “Neither did I. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Freddie says. Auston still doesn’t move.

“But I thought about it, last night. Everything,” Freddie continues, heart pounding so loud in his ears that he can hardly hear his own voice. “And I— I want to try, with us and Mo.”

Then, Auston turns around, eyes huge.

“Is this a test,” he asks, voice shaky, scared. “Are you going to break up with me if I say I want to?”

“ _No_ ,” Freddie is quick to deny. “I’m serious, Auston. I’m not going to end things over this. We can try, if you want. I want what you want.”

That seems like the wrong thing to say, because Auston’s face screws up.

“You can’t do this just because I want it,” Auston says. “You don’t even—” His face falls. “You don’t want this.”

Freddie walks forward, until he’s only a few feet away from Auston. He holds his hands up, hovering over Auston.

“Can I touch you?” Freddie asks, and Auston nods, lip caught between his teeth.

“Okay,” Freddie says, and puts his hands on Auston’s chest, backing them up and sliding his hands around to Auston’s shoulders. Auston’s looking down, blinking hard.

“Look at me,” Freddie begs, and he knows he must sound pathetic because Auston’s head snaps up.

“I’m not lying to you,” Freddie promises. “I want this. I think— I think it could be good. I think Mo could be really good for both of us.”

Auston still doesn’t say anything, stunned and disbelieving.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Freddie reassures, because he needs Auston to know this. It seemed like Auston was afraid of that the whole time. “I think you need to stop thinking that I’m ever going to do that. You’re— Auston. You’re the fucking love of my life, okay? I want to make things work because I love you and you’re amazing and I just want you to tell me and trust me about everything. Alright?

“I want this because I know Mo loves you a lot. And anyone that loves you that much already has a special place in my heart. You know I love you more than anything. And when I say I want to try, I mean I think I could fall in love with Mo, too.”

Through this whole thing, Auston’s eyes have been steadily watering, and when Freddie finishes, he starts to cry again. It starts small, and he covers his mouth with his hand to try and stop. But he can’t, and then it becomes this terrible, ugly thing, like it’s being wrenched out of him.

He lists forward and sobs into Freddie’s chest, body folded in so he can tuck himself under Freddie’s chin and just hold on and cry.

“It’s okay,” Freddie keeps saying, but the sobs continue to wrack Auston’s body and he’s shaking uncontrollably in Freddie’s arms. So Freddie just does what he always does but couldn’t last night, just holds him and stays right there for him, and Auston works out everything that’s been tearing him up inside for months, now.

Freddie puts his hand on the back of Auston’s neck as he hides his tears against Freddie’s shirt, rubbing slow circles with his thumb, until Auston cries himself out, exhausted.

“Are you alright, now?” Freddie pushes his hair back behind his ears as Auston nods, face still pressed to Freddie’s body.

“Okay.” And they stand there in silence, until Auston finally leans back.

His whole face is wet, messy with tears, red and blotchy and swollen. But Auston looks at him, touching fingers to Freddie’s mouth in an imitation of a kiss, and Freddie’s never seen anything better.

When Auston finally speaks, his words are barely audible, voice hoarse. “I don’t know what to say.”

“How about ‘yes’?” Freddie jokes, and his heart feels like it grows three sizes when Auston offers him a watery smile.

“Yes,” Auston repeats. “You mean it?” he asks.

Freddie pulls him in again, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Matthews,” and Auston finally, _finally_ , starts to laugh.

Auston watches him the rest of the day like he thinks Freddie’s pranking him, like he’s going to jump out at him when he rounds a corner and tell him it’s over. He’s very quiet, and stays that way even when they get to bed and Freddie starts kissing him.

“You alright?” Freddie asks.

Auston nods, fingers gently touching Freddie’s face like he’s mapping out all the freckles and dips and creases.

Then he tilts his head, and Freddie leans down and slots their mouths together for another kiss, languid and slow.

“Tired?” Freddie asks again when he pulls back a second time.

This time, Auston shakes his head, still watching Freddie carefully.

“Don’t feel like talking then?”

Instead of a response, Auston pulls him down with a hand at the back of his neck, and presses their mouths together again.

“Just talk to me,” Auston whispers against his lips.

Freddie’s confused. He has no idea what Auston wants him to say, and he’s not usually the verbal one in bed between the two of them. This seems like a repeat of all the times they had really weird and quiet sex while Auston was still keeping his secret about Mo, except Auston’s pushing Freddie to fill the silence now.

“You’re beautiful,” Freddie says instead, sappy and gross because Auston makes him that way, and he knows Auston secretly likes it. He brushes Auston’s hair back from his face, careful. “I love the way you look like this.”

Auston shifts, pressing his nose to Freddie’s cheek, arms wrapped around Freddie’s neck.

Freddie hesitates over what he wants to say next, but Auston is clinging hard, and he’s probably still nervous about everything they’ve talked about.

“I think— Mo would probably love to see you like this, too.”

Auston makes a noise at that, surprised, arms tightening.

“Would you want that?” Freddie asks, still unsure at how Auston’s reacting to it.

There’s a pause where neither of them moves. Then Auston nods, hair brushing against Freddie’s face.

“Yeah?” Freddie’s gaining confidence now, feeling the way Auston is hardening against his thigh. “Both of us touching you, kissing you. Mo would be careful, but he wouldn’t have to be, huh? You could take it.”

Freddie pushes up on his elbows now so he can see Auston’s face. His eyes are squeezed shut, cheeks red. Auston is very clearly into this, and Freddie’s surprised by how turned on he is himself.

“You want it,” Freddie says, firm. Auston’s eyes open, all pupil, and so dark.

“Stay there,” Freddie whispers, rolling off of him and grabbing the lube.

He doesn’t waste time, getting Auston wet before pressing his index finger into him.

“Hold yourself open for me,” he says, and Auston shivers before drawing a knee up to his chest.

He watches his finger disappear into Auston, his hole fluttering around it.

“I’d tell Mo how you like it,” he says. “Tell him you love having fingers in you.”

Auston clenches around him at the words, and Freddie adds another finger slowly, watching Auston’s face. His eyes are closed, chest falling with huge, shaky breaths. He looks overwhelmed, and Freddie’s hardly done anything yet.

“Maybe I’d help. Both our fingers in there at the same time, stretching you. And then when we’re done, Mo could fuck you.”

That makes Auston jerk, letting out an involuntary noise. Freddie pulls his fingers out and Auston moans, empty. Then he lines himself up.

“Have you thought about that?” Freddie asks. He pushes the head in, and Auston’s grip slips on the back of his thigh. But Freddie’s hand is there, pushing it back again, Auston on display for him. He imagines this, Mo’s hand next to his, both of them holding Auston down.

Auston’s staring at him now, like he doesn’t know if he can say. Freddie knows he has, though, and it’s okay.

“I have, too,” Freddie admits, and Auston exhales so hard it’s like it was punched out of him.

Suddenly Freddie’s overcome with the need to be fully inside him right now, and pushes forward a little too fast. Auston’s hands are twisted in the sheets, like he’s afraid to touch.

“When I imagined it, Mo would take his time. Fucking you slow and patient until you were begging for it.” He slows his movements, too, holding still and making Auston feel it as he speaks.

He grinds in, each thrust making Auston shake. He can’t tell what’s affecting Auston more, Freddie being inside him, or what he’s saying.

“He would be sure to make you come.”

Then Freddie picks up the pace, getting a hand around Auston roughly. Auston hisses like it hurts, grip too dry. Freddie doesn’t want to stop fucking him long enough to get the lube, so he spits into his palm and starts jerking him again.

“I would fuck you after,” Freddie says. “You’d be so wet and open from Mo that I could just slide inside you. You would still feel it though. You’d be sensitive, and it would be a lot. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

By the time he’s done talking, Auston’s heaving huge, dry sobs, so overwhelmed.

“Yes,” Auston gasps, the first thing he’s said this whole time.

“I got you,” Freddie says, and works his hips and his hand until Auston comes, shooting up his chest.

Freddie keeps moving, fucking in and in as Auston shudders from overstimulation. He has tears in his eyes now, but still reaches for Freddie until Freddie leans in and kisses him, open mouthed and wet. Auston bites down roughly on Freddie’s lower lip, and it sends Freddie over the edge.

When he’s done, feeling lightheaded, he pulls out, watching come dribbling out of Auston’s hole. He presses his fingers to it, getting them messy, the ring of muscle red and swollen but still fluttering open again at the touch.

It’s _filthy,_ and Freddie’s cock twitches, valiantly trying to get it up again.

“Mo would help clean you up, too,” Freddie says. He leans up, running his dirty fingers through the mess on Auston’s chest. He presses them to Auston’s mouth, both their come mixed together, and watches in awe as Auston sucks them down without hesitation, mouth soft and lax.

Auston blinks watery eyes up at him, lips pink and bruised and stretched around Freddie’s fingers, and Freddie loves him so fucking much.

Freddie cleans both of them up after, hand gentle and shaky on Auston’s body while Auston stares at him, wide-eyed and wordless.

“Next week,” Auston says, suddenly, startling Freddie. His voice is gravel, and it sounds strange after being silent for so long. “When I’m at the All-Star Game. You and Mo should—”

He swallows, cheeks pink. “If you guys, you know—” he looks away, but Freddie knows what he’s trying to say.

“If you want to, you should,” Auston finishes, embarrassed.

“I’ll invite him over,” Freddie reassures, and puts his hand on Auston’s cheek, warm to the touch. “And we’ll see what happens.”

Freddie doesn’t want to say that talking it out magically fixes all of their problems, but they do beat the defending cup champs three nights later, and Auston _scores a goal._

Auston is visibly relieved in the locker room after, and then they go out with the team and Auston dances like a fool, then they go home and have wonderful, amazing, _normal_ sex. And Auston _says things_ during it. It’s crazy how much better Freddie feels already.

But Auston has to leave the next morning to catch a flight to San Jose, because even though he’s been slumping he’s still ridiculously good at hockey, and the world wants to see it.

“Be good,” Freddie says, as Auston stands there with his luggage in his hand.

“Feel like I should be saying that to you,” Auston says back.

When he hugs Freddie, it feels like he’s afraid to let go.

“Let me know how it goes,” Auston whispers in his ear.

Then with another squeeze, Auston goes. Freddie gets back in his car and just sits there, watching Auston disappear through the doors, until the car behind him honks.

This is something Freddie should probably be doing in person, but he’s a chicken and he ends up texting Mo instead.

_Want to watch Auston and asg together tonight at ours?_

Short and simple.

Mo replies within seconds.

 _Yes,_ he says. _I’ll come at 6?_

 _Sure,_ Freddie texts back. Then he goes and takes a fucking nap.

Mo comes over with food, a thought that actually slipped Freddie’s mind. To be fair, he was a little preoccupied about something else, and that something happens to be a very big, monumental thing.

They eat as the skills stuff starts, mostly tuning out until the shooting accuracy at the end when Auston finally gets to go. Conversation is light, because it’s mostly Mo carrying the entire thing, Freddie too stressed to talk. He’s been running through scenarios in his head, trying to map out how the whole thing should play out when he tells Mo, but none of them seem right or natural.

Then Auston pulls off his Leafs jersey, revealing the Marleau one he has on underneath, in _San Jose_ — Freddie and Mo share an incredulous look, and then both of them start laughing.

It’s out of disbelief first, because Auston loves attention, and if this wasn’t the best way to get it, on national TV no less, then Freddie doesn’t even know anymore. He imagines the tweets are already coming in by the second if the crowd screaming in the background is any indication of how the hockey world feels about him at the moment.

And then it’s just because Freddie loves Auston so damn much, this sweet and thoughtful and ridiculous person who just made every hockey fan out there fall in love with him too.

Freddie glances over, and Mo’s watching Auston miss targets and cheat like an idiot, still smiling uncontrollably. If Freddie wasn’t sure before, this definitely confirms it. Mo is absolutely gone for this guy.

Freddie doesn’t mind at all, because his own heart is doing something weird, too, and it’s not because of Auston anymore.

Eventually the skills competition ends, and they turn the TV off, just sitting in comfortable silence.

Mo breaks it first. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask— and feel free to tell me to fuck off if this is too personal or whatever—”

Freddie starts panicking, mind racing with possibilities of what Mo could possibly ask him.

“Are you and Auston good now? I noticed, well. Things seemed weird for a bit. That’s all. Just wanted to make sure you were fine.”

Of course, Mo noticed. Fred remembers Mo asking after them at practice while they were going through the longest stretch of it. Now that it’s over, Fred can be honest.

“We’re okay, now,” Freddie says. “He was going through some stuff, but we talked about it. And we figured some things out.”

“Oh, good.” Mo sits back, like he’s ready to drop it. But Freddie’s not done.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Freddie says, and his heart starts beating fast. He thinks about Auston, blinking up at him and basically telling him to get his shit together with Mo. He thinks about Mo, who has been on his mind so much, and how he hadn’t even noticed until Auston finally said something.

Mo cocks his head, waiting patiently.

“I think,” Freddie says, and turns until he’s facing Mo fully. “It would be easier if I just showed you.”

Then he leans in, puts a hand on Mo’s face, and kisses him.

Mo stays frozen and doesn’t kiss him back at all, and Freddie thinks he’s fucked up badly. _Mo’s never going to talk to either of us again,_ is his first thought. And his second thought is, _fuck, Auston is going to be so disappointed._

When he pulls away, hand still on Mo’s face, Mo’s looking at him in utter shock.

“I thought—” Mo stammers, like he can barely form words. “You said you and Auston were _fine_.” He sounds betrayed, and that’s not what Freddie was going for at all.

“We _are_ ,” Freddie insists. “But we think it would be better with you. _We_ would be better with you.”

“You’re fucking with me,” Mo says immediately, voice trembling. “You’re still pissed I kissed Auston, aren’t you.”

“ _No._ ” Freddie doesn’t know how to make Mo understand. “I was never mad about that. Not then, and not now. We _want_ you, Mo. I know how you feel about Auston. That’s why you kissed him, isn’t it?”

Mo flinches.

“And it’s okay. It’s really okay.”

Mo stares at him, mouth open like he doesn’t believe it. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Freddie says. “Auston actually— he pretty much told me to talk to you this weekend and figure it out. We want this. We want to try.”

Mo blinks at him. “I’m not coming between you and Auston, am I?”

“God, no,” Freddie says. “Promise.”

Then, he says, “I want to kiss you again, if that’s okay.”

Mo nods, very slow.

This time, he kisses back, unsure at first, but more and more confident as Freddie presses forward. Mo puts a hand on his shoulder, the contact electric, and then it gets frantic.

“Come upstairs,” Freddie pants. Mo’s mouth is bitten red, and he looks so good. “Come to bed.”

They don’t do anything crazy, both of them way too keyed up to wait on anything else. They rut against each other with no finesse like teenagers, and the mess smears between them when they come, unable to pull away from kissing.

They keep kissing for a long time after, curled towards each other on their sides, and Freddie runs his hands all over Mo’s body, loving the thrill of learning someone new.

But— there’s this nagging voice at the back of his mind telling him he needs to call Auston, and he gets up when he can’t ignore it any longer.

“I should call Auston,” Freddie explains. Mo looks nervous immediately, and Freddie shakes his head. “He’s going to be happy about this,” he reassures. “He just wanted to know if it happened.”

Freddie shuts the door behind him in the bathroom, and clicks on Auston’s contact.

Auston picks up on the first ring, as if he was waiting this whole time.

“Freddie,” he says, breathless. “Hey.”

“Hi babe,” Freddie says. “We watched you in skills today. How’s California?”

“It’s good,” Auston says, then cuts right to what he wanted to ask. “Did you and Mo…”

Freddie doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, we did.” There’s a long pause, then noise, like Auston’s shifting on his end.

“Is that okay?” Freddie hedges. “Like we talked about, right?”

“Yeah,” Auston says. “Just wish I could’ve been there.”

“Both of us wish you were here, too.” Mo obviously didn’t say that, but it’s pretty clear.

“Can you… Will you invite him to bye week?” Auston’s voice is small, like he thinks Freddie’s going to say no. “I want to see him. And you. Both of you.”

“Of course,” Freddie says. “I’ll ask him now.”

Auston’s still very quiet, and Freddie’s suddenly worried.

“You okay?” he checks. 

“Yeah,” Auston says again. “I just miss you,” he says, sad.

Freddie’s heart clenches, even though it’s been one day. But he knows what Auston means. A lot has happened.

“Miss you, too,” Freddie says. “Hey, I need to go talk to Mo again, are you going to be okay?”

“I will,” Auston says. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” and Auston hangs up.

Mo’s on his phone when Freddie gets back, sitting up half under the covers.

He locks it when Freddie comes back though, and sits up straighter like he’s expecting bad news.

“Everything’s okay,” Freddie says, getting back in bed. “Don’t worry.”

Mo relaxes next to him, if only marginally.

“Come with me and Auston this bye week,” Freddie says abruptly. He can’t wait any longer to ask. He has to know, now. “Florida. We’re going to Florida.”

Mo eyes him, but doesn’t say anything.

“We got an Airbnb.” Freddie barrels on, despite the fact that blood is rushing to his ears big time. “There’s a really big bed, and it’s by the beach. We can hang out all week. All of us.”

He stops, feeling dumb and exposed, and Mo keeps watching him. He’s about to die of embarrassment when Mo finally nods, then surprises him by leaning in first to kiss him.

“Yes?” Freddie asks, hopeful.

“Yeah, idiot,” Mo says, smiling. He’s going to fit in so well with Auston, Freddie thinks, and lets Mo kiss him again.

Mo has to leave the next morning to get clothes and pack, but Freddie makes him buy a plane ticket before he goes. It’s kind of expensive last minute, but Mo waves it off, and smiles at him nervously once he gets the confirmation.

Once Mo’s gone, Freddie calls Auston again, and describes in very vivid detail everything he can remember from last night, from the way Mo flushed red all the way down his chest, to the way Mo’s breath shook as he came, and to the way Mo felt warm as they slept together.

Auston’s breathing is so fast when he comes, and Freddie wishes more than anything that they didn’t have to do this over the phone.

“I’ll see you in Florida,” Freddie says once Auston comes down, breaths steadying. “I love you, Auston.”

Auston’s flight is directly from California to Florida, straight out of San Jose the morning after the All-Star Game (Freddie and Mo didn’t end up watching that one, but the blowjob he got and gave were great). It’s a long flight, though, and Auston doesn’t get there until the afternoon, looking exhausted from the travel.

Freddie and Mo are both there waiting for him at baggage claim, and he all but collapses into Freddie’s arms the second he gets close enough, Mo standing close enough to touch.

They’re all in sunglasses and hats, in one of the busiest airports in the country, and Freddie figures that provides enough anonymity to warrant him stroking a hand through the hair curling at the back of Auston’s neck gently. His hair is getting long, Freddie thinks. He likes it a lot.

Once Freddie lets Auston go, he stumbles one step over, and hugs Mo just as hard, sighing when Mo clutches him back.

Auston sleeps in the backseat on the drive, and Freddie holds Mo’s hand across the cupholder in the middle.

Mo carries Auston’s stuff into the bedroom, and now that they’re finally inside, Freddie kisses a very sleepy Auston like they haven’t seen each other in years. Auston wakes up gradually through the kiss, and then rests his head on Freddie’s shoulder for a very long time once they break apart.

They’re still standing like that when Mo comes back out, leaning against the entryway to the living room and watching them, and Freddie and Mo share a look over Auston’s head.

Mo looks nervous, like he’s feeling out of place, and Freddie feels immediately like he needs to do something about that.

“Hey,” Freddie murmurs into Auston’s hair. “I think there’s someone else who really wants to see you.”

Auston lifts his head slowly, and twists around so he can look at Mo. They stare, until Auston finally speaks.

“Mo,” he says. It comes out uneven, but Auston reaches a hand out. “Come over here, please.”

The air feels charged when Mo walks over, like this is the moment of truth, and he takes Auston’s hand.

Auston’s taller than Mo, usually, but he’s still leaning back against Freddie, and it puts them nearly at eye level.

“Morgan,” Auston says, and Freddie watches the corner of Mo’s mouth quirk upwards, just the slightest bit.

“Auston,” Mo replies.

Then Auston yanks him forward so quickly and with so much force that it almost knocks them over, and presses their mouths together hard.

For a second Freddie thinks that they missed, and he’s going to have to take them both to the ER and somehow explain the matching broken noses. But Mo puts one hand on Auston’s hip, then reaches over him to put the other one on Freddie’s shoulder, and they kiss.

Freddie still has his hands on Auston’s belly, and he pushes them closer so he can put one hand on Mo’s waist, and they stand there like that, Mo and Auston’s mouths slotted together and Freddie holding them both as the sun starts to go down.

They don’t do anything more that night, Auston still exhausted and the whole thing still new and fragile.

But Freddie and Mo stay awake long after Auston falls asleep between them, and Freddie kisses him in the dark.

The first days pass pretty much the same— they get brunch, go to the beach where it takes Auston ages to cover Freddie and Mo in sunscreen before they can actually lie out in the sun, then have ridiculously expensive dinners before they get back for the day.

They still don’t have sex, but they all make out with each other so much Freddie thinks his lips are going to be permanently swollen like this.

On Wednesday, Mo rents a boat, and he and Freddie fish while Auston lies smack in the middle of the deck, asleep in the sun on his stomach, golden and tan. Freddie doesn’t know why Auston agreed to coming out this far in the middle of the ocean when he’s so scared of deep water and sharks, but when he gets tired he sits next to Auston’s sleeping form and covers his head with a hat in case he gets hot.

Auston wakes up when they start heading back to shore, probably roused by the wind. He doesn’t get up, though, just rolls over and lies there as Freddie and Mo take turns leaning down to kiss him, content.

Things feel different that night, when they get to the Airbnb. They drank at dinner, but thanks to his nap earlier, Auston is wide awake. His energy is infectious, and it makes Freddie and Mo alert as well.

Auston backs Freddie against the huge windows as soon as the door shuts, then kisses him with intent. Freddie’s hand instinctively goes to Auston’s hair, then down his spine, and settles on his ass.

Then Auston turns, walking over to Mo, and kisses him, too. Mo touches Auston like he’s been doing it for years, rather than just days, and Freddie feels hot as he watches them move.

“Bed,” Auston says, then marches towards the bedroom like he expects the two of them to follow. Of course, they do.

Freddie expects this to be awkward, too many limbs and too many people being unsure about what they want, what they can and can’t do. But it isn’t, because Auston knows exactly what he wants, which is to be doted on by both of them.

It’s not really like Freddie’s fantasy that he shared with him, because neither of them fuck Auston that night.

But does Mo get his mouth on Auston, and Freddie kisses the sounds right out of Auston’s mouth. They don’t have to be quiet, because there’s no one around them to hear, but Freddie likes the way it feels like he’s swallowing up every noise Auston makes, so it’s just for the three of them.

Then, Freddie kisses Mo, the taste of Auston on both their tongues as he gets Mo off while Auston lies back and watches. It’s dirty in the best way, even better when Mo sucks him off, too, careful and slow.

They don’t forget about Auston, though, still staring at them with wide eyes when Freddie comes. He’s gotten hard again just from watching the two of them but hasn’t moved to touch himself, and god if that doesn’t make Freddie’s mind race with the sheer number of possibilities, each one dirtier than the next.

Freddie jerks Auston off, slowly and with so much patience it looks like Auston is going to die. Mo kisses him and touches him everywhere, all of this new to him. Freddie can’t look away from Auston’s face, but he imagines the expression Mo’s wearing is pretty similar to the way he looks every time he’s lucky enough to be able to touch Auston like this.

Auston comes again, in his hand with a shout. Freddie kisses him through it, and it all feels so surreal. The moonlight through the windows, the waves crashing in the distance, someone he loves who loves him back looking at him like he could give him the world, and someone he’s falling for, hard, looking at him too.

There is nowhere else he wants to be, right now. No one else he’d rather be with.

They lose the first game back. But then they win the next, and the next, and the next, and the one after that, too. And Auston scores, and scores, and scores. Freddie plays out of his mind, too, and only yells at Mo a few times for some really poor defense, but Mo racks up points to make up for it, anyway.

Auston signs a contract, and they celebrate with dinner, Auston paying, of course, and then they go back home and take him apart. This time, it’s a lot like Freddie’s fantasy, both of them getting inside him, Auston blinking tears out of his eyes when Freddie and Mo wipe him down together. _Love you guys,_ he keeps saying, and they hold him as he falls asleep.

Mo moves in, gradually. They get a bigger bed, and it takes all three of them to haul it up and then all three of them, plus many, many YouTube tutorials to put it together.

Freddie tells Mo he loves him randomly on a Thursday when they’re alone, watching Mo carry sheets to the laundry room. Mo says it back, and then they kiss in the hallway, sheets forgotten on the floor. They end up having incredible sex right there in the hallway, Auston very jealous about it until they rope him into round two that night.

They play hockey. They win, they lose, they win again, and lose some more.

There are still fights, but it’s easier, with Mo. Mo lets them bicker sometimes, but he’s always there to be gentle when Auston and Freddie really go at it about asinine things, and he’s always there to be a shoulder to lean on. Freddie was right. Mo makes them better.

Mo disappears one day without a word, probably to go back to his apartment to get some more things.

They have the day off, so Auston reads on the couch while Freddie watches tennis on TV.

“Put your glasses on,” Freddie reminds him, and Auston grumbles.

“I have no idea where those are,” Auston says, and goes back to squinting at his book.

“Mo always puts them in the drawer by the front door,” Freddie says, and dumps Auston’s feet off his lap so he’ll go.

Auston returns with his glasses on, trailing a hand across Freddie’s shoulders as he passes behind the back of the couch.

The door opens then, and both of them turn and watch Mo walk back in.

He has a single, small black bag in his hands, so Freddie guesses he didn’t actually grab another suitcase of clothes.

“What’s that?” Auston asks. He sets his book down, blinking at Mo.

“It’s—” Mo stops, glancing down inside the bag. He takes a breath, looking at Freddie, then Auston. “It’s something I should’ve given to you months ago,” he says, and holds the bag out to Auston.

Auston leans forward off the couch and takes it, before slowly pulling out what’s inside.

It’s the tie. The dark blue silk tie Freddie and Mo both looked at for a long time when they were shopping for Auston before Christmas. Mo must’ve gone back and gotten it after Freddie had gone home, that day, and never given it to him. Until now.

There’s a lot more meaning in that tie today than there was back then, and Freddie’s breath catches as he looks at Mo, who’s still staring at Auston, watching his reaction.

Auston doesn’t get it, not entirely, because he wasn’t there to see the way Mo had wavered, probably picturing this exact moment back in December, but he’s still looking at the tie like it’s beautiful and special. It’s alright, though. They’ll explain it in time.

“I love you,” Mo says to Auston. “I love you both.”

“Love you, too,” both Freddie and Auston say at the same time, sounding equally emotional for different reasons.

Then he comes to sit between them on the couch, and they all watch TV.

“Babe,” Auston calls from the bedroom to no one in particular.

Freddie’s blow-drying his hair.

“Not it,” he mouths to Mo, who’s adjusting his tie in the mirror next to him.

Mo rolls his eyes. “Yeah?” He calls back.

“Where’s the tie?” Auston says, voice muffled like he’s looking in the closet.

“Under the dresser,” Mo says, exasperated, and Freddie laughs at him.

Auston comes into the bathroom, kissing them both, before wrapping his arms around Mo.

“It’s not,” he says, pouting. Mo rolls his eyes again.

“I’ll get it.” Then he goes and gets on his knees and extracts the blue silk tie from between the bed and the dresser, dusting it off before getting back up.

“You’re the best,” Auston says, leaning in for a kiss. The blow dryer turns off in the bathroom.

“Thought I was the best.” Freddie raises an eyebrow at them, coming into the bedroom. Auston takes the tie from Mo, handing it to Freddie.

“You never find my ties for me anymore,” Auston pouts, but lets Freddie spin him around and put it on for him.

Mo comes to stand in front of them as Freddie works, holding Auston’s jacket in his hands.

When Freddie’s done, he leans over Auston to press a quick kiss to Mo’s mouth, then another to Auston’s jaw.

“Ready?” he asks.

Auston smiles at him, then flashes the same one to Mo.

“Yeah,” he says. “Love you guys.” Easy as anything. 

**Author's Note:**

> \- There is what could be considered emotional infidelity, but there is no cheating. The only physical "cheating" that happens is only a misunderstanding. Also Auston and Mo both feel very bad about it
> 
> \- Freddie should not have had sex with Auston when he was extremely upset. It was consensual, but Auston was emotional and vulnerable and it could have ended very badly (it doesn't)
> 
> \- The way Auston kept everything to himself for so long is very unhealthy, both for himself and for the relationship. It is normal, but communication is key :)
> 
> \- Auston cries a lot in this, but it is ok! crying is good! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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